Keys and Kissing
by luckless-is-me
Summary: Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? Dexion Yaoi. Full Summary Inside.
1. Prolouge: Kingdom Key

**I've had this story in the back of my mind for a while now, so why not put it on paper? ****^-^**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would prefer not getting robbed. **

**Thanks: I would like to say thanks to my beta for this chapter Tysonkaiexperiment.**

**Now, without further adieu~**

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Cropped black hair clung to the light dew, hugging the inner windows of Twilight Town's Police Department. It was dark out, a light rain pitter-pattering against the department's four outer walls. Beady black eyes had closed as a sigh escaped his pale lips, fogging the glass of the window next to him. It truly was an awful night to be by one's self, especially in such a dreary and lonely place. With no current prisoners, Officer Mickey was doomed to sit in the rickety old office chair with a vague hope that someone would call and request his assistance. It was a useless hope really, but a hope all the same.

Resigned, the short-statured man pulled himself away from the window and slowly made his way to the dull wooden desk, where he sat with his head in his hands. Oh, how he wished to be somewhere better then this tiny little town; nothing exciting ever happened here. Throughout all his younger years, all he'd ever wished for was to be was a cop in some high-crime area, a defender of a famous city. His dream of course, like so many others before him, just wasn't meant to be. Right out of the Police Academy, he was sent to work at Twilight Town's Police Department. At the time, he was a bit discouraged, but what's life without a challenge? He simply decided to work his way up, to show he was worth more than just prankster teenagers and bickering couples.

And, of course, he did. He went from the short, naive newbie on the force to the short, motivated sheriff. He'd turned this low-crime area of shoplifters and petty thieves to a crime-less area of manicured lawns and safely unlocked doors. He'd done something wonderful, yet he wasn't—_couldn't_—be satisfied with his work. He'd done nothing but reach the top of _nothing_, with nothing to be proud of except for a wife as short as himself and twenty years of experience with petty criminals under his belt. Yes; he'd become nothing but a depressed, unmotivated man, a mere shadow of his former self.

Allowing one last sigh to escape his lips, Mickey laid his forehead against the desk, rubbing at his temples. The soft rhythm of rain hitting the building was just making the overworked sheriff too tired to deal with it all; his worthless life, his worthless job, his worthless _existence_. His eyelids slowly began to flutter closed, rain playing a soothing yet dark melody. Of course, it would be wrong of him to sleep on duty; that was something he constantly punished his subordinates for. He couldn't allow himself to partake in the act. But...

_It couldn't hurt to sleep just this once. No one would call anyway._

**K3YBLAD3**

Thump… **thump**… _thump_… _**thump**_…

Startled, Mickey's eyes opened. He grabbed his gun instinctively only to drop it back on the desk once he'd realized what was going on. Someone was beating on the door… in the pouring rain at- Mickey hurriedly checked the dial clock mounted on the wall—three thirty-seven a.m. What an odd time for someone to come calling...

_Someone must be in trouble!_

Unable to contain his building excitement, the sheriff rushed towards the door and pulled it open without a second thought. And in the doorway, bathed in the moon's eerie glow, stood one of the town's most respected and noble men. He looked as though he had just been saved from drowning, his eyes filled with a desperate light as his lips panted for air.

"May I come in?" Was all he asked in his nearly breathless state. Stupefied, Mickey could do nothing but nod and move aside. The man led the way through the department, Mickey hesitantly following along behind. Now, why was it that this man looked as though he was the one in charge and Mickey was simply the subordinate? Mickey didn't know, he simply allowed things to happen as they would happen.

The pair stopped when they came to that dull wooden desk that Mickey knew to be his own. Mickey took his seat in silence as the man he highly respected leaned up against the window's slightly damp frame, his wet hair dripping onto the carpet. The black haired man was mesmerized by the grace in which the other carried himself, even in his seemingly desperate state. Finally, after a long pregnant silence, Mickey found the courage to speak.

"Why are you here?" To his amazement, a chuckle passed through the stale air, those desperate eyes watching Mickey's every move.

"Because something must be done about our town." Another laugh, this one deeper and far, far darker and it sent chills racing down Mickey's spine. "Yes; something must be done."

Though intrigued, Mickey couldn't help but think the man had gone mad. What was there to be done? Twilight Town was a perfect, quaint little place that people came to idolize of small towns and cities. "What is it that needs to be done…?" he couldn't help but ask.

Another dark chuckle was his reply. Gracefully, the man moved away from the windows, slowly moving forward until he was right in front of Mickey's worn desk, his steps shallow against the dark blue carpeting. "This town is nothing but darkness, Mickey. Do you understand?"

Of course the black haired man didn't. This man…he'd lost his mind? Yes; he had to have. Why else would such a man come to his lonely, little police department so early in the morning, sprouting such nonsense? There couldn't possibly be another reason for it. "Are you all right?"

Another laugh, this one so much closer to himself, the man's torso bent over the desk as his eyes met Mickey's. "Why, of course I am, but are you?"

"I don't think I understand." And, indeed, he did not. Of course he was okay, why wouldn't he be?

"Of course you don't." A curved smile right in front of his beady black eyes, "But you will." Before those eyes could even blink, a ripping pain tore through the side of Mickey's dwarfish face. He cried out in agony, getting far away from his desk, unshed tears shining in his eyes as he stared at the man he now knew—without a doubt—was insane. Hesitantly, he brought his hand to his cheek and he felt it; the slow, drizzling drops of ruby red blood that were steadily sliding down his face from the gaping wound in his cheek. Laughter was all he could hear penetrating his slightly too large ears. Dark, _evil _laughter, the cold gruffness of a deranged man.

"Do you understand now?" No; Mickey didn't understand. Slowly, the man came closer, trapping Mickey in one of the room's four corners. So close to the phone, yet so far from escape.

He was the sheriff; he couldn't let his life end in such a way.

He stood firm and fought back.

As the knife the man was so inconspicuously cradling came closer and closer, Mickey fought back. And, with every tear, every rip that blade brought across his skin, Mickey couldn't help but fight harder, never allowing his thoughts to escape his head as he fought a silent battle. _Why, oh why did I drop my gun back onto the desk? How could I have allowed myself to let my guard down? How could I let this happen?_

Of course, Mickey's fighting—his _thinking_—was in vain, for the blood loss proved to be too much and the sheriff, completely unarmed, fell to that shiny silver blade in the respected one's hands. And, as his dead body lay sprawled on the floor, he couldn't have possible known the mystery that would come with that strange engraving on his dwarfish arm.

_**KINGDOM KEY...**_

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**A/N: Confused yet? Everything should make a bit more sense next chapter. ^^**

**Reviews are appreciated. **


	2. Star Seeker

**And, here marks chapter one. This chapter _actually _has main characters in it (thank the moogles). This chapter also explains a bit more, since the prologue was really, well, just a prolouge and I can't summerize a story to save my life.**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Thanks: I would like to say thanks to my beta for this chapter Tysonkaiexperiment.**

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Oceanic blue eyes followed the streams of blood across the carpeted floor. He had seen only one crime scene before and he had thought that he would get used to the blood as time wore on. Oh, how wrong he was. He hadn't gotten used to the blood or the dead bodies. Demyx Wendell was still the weak, emotional newbie, that everyone thought of him as in the beginning. And he _hated _it. Why did he even want to be a detective? He just wasn't cut out for this type of work. He just loved people so much; why did he want a job with nothing but death? It just didn't make any sense.

"Stop with the damn face, Demyx. There's barely even any blood." Demyx jumped as a hand collided with his back in a playful, yet slightly painful slap.

"Yeah…I guess you're right." And, he was, or would be. His fire-headed coworker has spoken the truth; there really _wasn't _a lot of blood, not compared to the amount at the last crime scene. And it definitely was not anywhere near the amount his coworkers had seen over their years of detective services. He was just…weak, and possibly a tad bit squimish.

Even though he knew that, he couldn't make himself pull his eyes away from the bloodstains. They just made everything so…real. Yes, Demyx had learned that real life was nothing like the detective stories written about in books. There were real people being killed, real families being left behind with real blood and real problems. There wasn't always a reason to the killings and the bad guys weren't always bad. No; real life was nothing like the stories written about in books. It was harsher, more corrupt, and unforgiving.

"Demyx!" Finally, the dirty-blond haired man was able to pull his ocean-like eyes away from the bloodstains, only to plant them on the slightly annoyed face of his coworker/friend.

Axel Jendriard; the newly promoted senior detective of their group of three. There were always two seniors and one rookie—this time around the one being Demyx. Axel was the one of their three to be singled out the most however. He was commonly figured to be the most devious of the bunch—and this judgment was not wrong. People, even those whom didn't know him, thought this because of his outward appearance. With that long, flaming red hair of his pulled back into a loose ponytail, his lean face had a feral look to it, his inverted tear tattoos seemingly reflected into his acid green eyes. He had an exhausted—probably from the long trip to Twilight Town—yet cocky air about him. Demyx had to admit that it fit him; he was always the one to tease the others or brag on himself, but that didn't make him a bad person or anything. He was just cocky. There's nothing wrong with that, right? _Right_.

"How's about you go outside and do some interviews or something? You're looking a little green." Gratefully, Demyx took Axel's advice, getting out of there as if somebody had lit a fire under his ass. Really, who was he trying to kid? Him? A detective? Ha! He was just some bubbly idiot trying to fool himself. What possessed him to want this job in the first place? Did he really think that he could save anyone like this, when all he did was turn green at the mere sight of blood? He would've been better off becoming a musician. If he got nothing else out of the job, he at least wouldn't have to look at the dead every other day. And that thought, of course, made everything just a little bit better.

Hesitantly, the rookie detective stepped outside. It was a…morbid sight, to say the least. The clouds were the dullest of grays, hanging low in the sky and practically taunting the people below. A light drizzle was slowly pelting the ground with light, sloppy puddles. Of course, the weather wasn't the only thing causing such an air. People of all shapes, sizes, and ages were littered about behind the bright yellow police tape. Word had spread fast in such a tiny, tight-knit town; everyone already knew about Officer Mickey's untimely death. In all honestly, the passerbys seemed more curious then fearful; Demyx doubted that anything like a murder had ever even been seen in this place, a far cry here from the high-crime area he'd been raised in.

"Sick again, Dem?" Demyx laughed nervously, rubbing his slightly callused hands across the back of his neck. Hearing that comment from anyone other than Sora Thompson could probably be considered teasing of some kind. Of course, since it came from Sora, it wasn't even a slight possibility. Sora with his huge blue eyes, spiky brown hair that defied gravity, and upbeat attitude couldn't even be thought of as anything other than a loveable bundle of happiness. He was both the team's Human Behavioral Specialist—for obvious reasons—and their organizer; no one knew exactly how that last one had happened. Sora was the least organized of the entire team, besides Demyx himself, that is.

"Just a little bit this time. I didn't even puke!" Demyx happily explained as Sora slowly began to back away as if to avoid any throw up if it did come, a smile clearly planted on his boyish face."Well, that's an improvement!" And, it was. At the last case, Demyx had been stuck outside on his hands and knees trying, in vain, to keep his stomach down. Of course, he couldn't. The blood was just too much. "I'll talk to you later, 'kay? Leon wants me to go and interview the guys that found the body—Xigbar and Xaldin something or other."

"'Kay." A little bit happier, Demyx leaned back against the Police Department's outer wall and watched Sora make his way over to a rough looking pair. Poor guy, he always got stuck interviewing the rough looking ones.

"Yo, Dem, get your head out of the clouds and move you ass!" With a slight squeak, Demyx rushed out of the way just as a gurney was pushed through the Department's entranceway. He barely had enough time to blink before a blonde head slid part him. Larxene Gendric was her name. She was their mortician, known for her love of electricity—or anything that can kill you considering the fact that she hates everyone—and her constant ability to PMS. No one wanted to get onto that woman's bad side, especially those who had seen her cut up a dead body like it was the most pleasurable thing in the world. Larxene was the team's only female worker as well as the only mortician—she couldn't have an assistant since she might just kill them—and she could quite possibly be the reason for the rest of the department turning gay—no one would ever tell her that though, the majority of them valued their lives.

"Demyx, get to work. You're not getting paid to stand around." The rookie detective squeaked as he watched the scowl on his boss' lips deepen. Squall Leonheart (also known as Leon) was technically the man in charge of Demyx, which Demyx might have been happy about if the man didn't seem to hate him for no reason. Leon was scary, especially for someone as smiley as Demyx. Leon's face was set in a constant scowl, one that the blond couldn't help but think was more often then not directed at him, and the scar situated between his eyes combined with his love of belts simply added to the picture."What do you want me to do, sir?"

Leon stared as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, those superior eyes of his narrowing in annoyance. Demyx could practically feel the man's glare ripping through his skin, causing him to slightly shrink away. "Interview some of these townspeople." Leon finally grunted, turning to walk inside and releasing Demyx from his never-changing glare.

The blond, of course, was perfectly happy with this new development—even though it was what Axel had already told him to do. People…he really did love working with people. Maybe he should've gone for a job in communications or something. It would've made more sense considering his unnatural inability to handle blood, but that didn't really matter anymore. He was a detective, and, for the moment, he was perfectly happy to just go and interview the townspeople.

With a carefree smile on his young face, he slid under the yellow crime tape and made his way to the first group of bystanders. The group of five didn't look very old, probably only a few years younger than Demyx himself. They seemed to be as good of a place to start as any.

"Hello, I'm De-"

"Can you tell us what's going on? I mean, like, nobody's telling us anything! What happened to Officer- what's his name again?"

"Mickey." One of the friend's provided.

"Yeah, him. So, tell us! What happened?"

Demyx closed the mouth that he'd never had the chance to close after being interpreted. He'd forgotten how…scary teenage girls could be. "Umm…we're trying to figure everything out at the moment and- uh- we just got here, so…"

A girl from the group giggled lightly into her palm. She had pretty azure eyes and red hair that Demyx found himself wishing to pet—of course, he didn't. "Hello, I'm Kairi. This is my younger sister Namine," A shy looking blonde girl waved using only the tips of her fingers, "And this is Tidus, Wakka, and Selphie."

Smiling once again, the dirty blond nodded. "And, I'm Demyx. I just need to ask you a few questions and—"

"Wait! We're not in any trouble, are we?" One of the boy's hurriedly edged in—for some reason, Demyx thought it was the one named Wakka.

"No; I just need to get your names and ages…stuff like that."

"Hang on just a sec," the other boy contributed, "You're not going to do that with everyone out here, are you?"

Slowly, Demyx allowed his eyes to travel up and down the surrounding streets of the Police Department. There were just dozens upon dozens of people littered about, and there were _more _coming. How could such a tiny town have so many people?

"Uh…yeah…" The blond was beginning to think that he should've tried his luck with the bloodstains.

**K3YBLAD3**

"So, we've got nothing?"

"We've got absolutely nothin'."

The temporary facility that the people of Twilight Town had provided had a bright and cheery air, painted with the brightest of spring yellows. However, the team of detectives had turned it into a place surrounded by a gloomy atmosphere. Why? Because they had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Larxene's autopsy came up with nothing other than a few defensive wounds and the realization that the killer was indeed right-handed- or ambidextrous, which ever, while Axel couldn't find _anything _besides the bloodstains. And, really, Demyx just learned that you should never underestimate the population count on the town's welcoming sign; it was a rather bad idea. Leon didn't find anything out, but that's most likely because he never did any actual work; he was more of a supervisor then anything. Not even Vexen and Marluxia, the department's forensic scientists, could find anything.

They really had _nothing_, not one speck of evidence was left behind. This case, which Sora had officially dubbed '_the Case of the Keys_', was quickly becoming one of the most infuriating cases that any of the team had ever seen. No; it was the most infuriating, every other crime had some form of evidence. And this one, this one had none.

"That's not possible. We must have something." Leon's eyebrows knitted together, his head heavily propped up on his outstretched palms. "Run through it again."

Axel didn't even bother to contain his groan, that wild red hair of his visibly deflating. "Look, boss, we've been through this a hundred _fucking _times! We've got _nothing_!"

"Run through it again." Leon repeated, eyes narrowed. He had an extreme hatred for all forms of defiance, be it form one of his own team members or some random passerby; he'd worked his way up from nothing and, in his mind, he deserved the respect of others. Those that didn't respect him would often find themselves severely punished. Axel, however, really couldn't care less about punishments—he'd been through quite a few during high school, so he simply stayed seated in his swivel chair, red hair slightly askew, those acid eyes of his fixed into a firm glare.

"Umm…Larxene said that the killer was probably right-handed…" Demyx offered, always one eager to please. "And, **Kingdom Key **has to mean _something._"

Leon merely grunted, focusing his cloudy eyes on Demyx, or, more specifically, through him. The blond literally squirmed; after all, he hated being stared at. It was something that he'd picked up in high school that had yet to fully go away. For some reason, it always made him feel as though he was being ignored and, being the bubbly creature that he is, Demyx _hated _being ignored.

"Hmm, do we know anything else?" The team shook their heads in unison; this case was truly baffling. Leon sighed, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, most likely in annoyance rather than him actually being tired. "Do we have any idea what the killer is like?"

Everyone turned towards the door where the team's profiler stood. Riku Destin was his name. The silver haired, aqua-eyed young man was supposedly one of the country's best profilers and he'd apparently proved it on more than one occasion since joining the department—not that Demyx had been around to see it. He was also one of their youngest members, though he had more experience then even Axel. And, now that they'd come up completely dry in the case, they had to turn to him for a break. Oh, what a sad world it was when the detectives had to rely on their profilers for case help…

"Sorry guys, I'm coming up dry. All I can tell you is that they're pretty serious. If they choose to kill again, it won't be a pretty sight. They went after the sheriff first, so, as it stands right now, they probably know no boundaries. Anyone could be next if they keep this up." Riku's voice was calm and casual, portraying none of the dread that came along with the prospect of more killings.

Of course, it wasn't needed; the room itself already had such a morbid air that it couldn't possibly get any worse. Why? Because the killer might just kill again and they could do _nothing _to stop them.

**K3YBLAD3**

Yen Sid was, and had always been, a rather respected man, even though he hardly ever left the comfort of his own home. No one ever knew for sure what the man was up to, locked away in that castle-like place. Many believed him to be crazy, maybe even a little insane. The man himself knew that he wasn't even in the least bit out of his mind; he simply relied on the stars for the answers to all of his problems. He was an astronomer after all. The stars, the galaxies, they were his life's work. Why should he bother with the public's idea of him when he could simply watch the stars all day and night? He wouldn't—_couldn't_—be bothered with it.

And, so he sat, everyday, all day.

He sat locked away in his topmost tower with nothing but a telescope and a book of the stars. He never left to cut his long, grey hair, nor did he often leave to retrieve food of any kind. Yes; he was consumed by his beloved stars, and that is exactly how he liked it.

So, on the night following the murder of the town's sheriff, he wasn't the wiser to any threat; he hadn't heard the news of any deaths, for he never bothered himself with watching the news. He hadn't been down to lock his doors. He hadn't once thought to arm himself. He hadn't even thought to turn on the castle's lights. He, one of Twilight Town's greatest, had turned himself into the perfect target.

Little did he know that it wouldn't have mattered what he did; his twisted fate was already sealed.

On the bottommost staircase stood the sheriff's killer. He stood tall, a trench coat covering his frame from head to toe. He was careful as he made his way up the stairs; his black boots were specifically made to make no noise on any type of floor—marble included. In the blackness of the building, he was perfectly at home; the dark was something he would forever understand. Everything would go according to plan, he knew. He'd planned everything out from the very beginning; he was ready for anything.

Yen Sid, as engrossed as he was in the stars movements, didn't notice the door behind him open, nor did he notice the black-clothed figure step through it. He didn't even hear the knotting of rope as it was hastily tied to the door's edge. And, as consumed as he was, he didn't feel the man come any closer or the slick, chilled edge of a blade being held a mere inch away from the base of his neck.

And it was over before it had even begun.

He didn't even have enough time to scream before the knife was thrust into him, a breathtaking pain taking over him before a delicious numbness took control of his limbs. He could do nothing but sit like a rag doll as a rope was tied around his neck, as the knife was removed and used to engrave words just under the base of his eyelids. He couldn't even protest as he was pulled away from his beloved telescope and forced to watch his life end as he was carefully slid out of one of the castle's windows; his neck snapping with a gut wrenching crunch as gravity worked against him for just one final time.

And, the killer, the killer couldn't stop himself from allowing the maniacal laughter that had been building in the pit of his throat from tearing free.

_It's too bad that the stars couldn't have told him what was coming._

**K3YBLAD3**

Demyx had never once spared a thought to the way that people think. He'd never thought that anyone's mind could be so twisted as to kill someone and then suspend the body twenty feet into the air. And, he'd never once thought that _anyone _would _ever _engrave words below someone's eyelids, for even from the height the body was suspended Demyx could clearly see the words **Star Seeker**. He'd never thought that a human being could be so…_sick_. So twisted. So wrong. He'd never once thought it, but now he _knew _it. Whoever the killer was, they weren't human anymore. They'd become something bloodthirsty; something with the need to kill.

"Dem, get away from there…" Demyx shook his head, looking back at his friend with sad, oceanic eyes. It was nice of Axel to show him any concern, but, for a change, he wasn't scared anymore. He was just so close to the body, the little rivulets of blood still dripping down the man's wounded neck. He wasn't scared or sickened by the blood, by the body, by the words. No; he was determined. They _would _find the killer; he just knew they couldn't do it alone.

Slowly, he turned away, eyes set on his coworker. "Axel, we're going to need some help with this." The redheaded nodded, agreeing with Demyx on something for what felt like the first time.

"Who do you have in mind?"

Demyx set his lips into a smooth line. He could think of one person, and only that one person. And, this idea was probably the craziest he'd ever come up with, but, this time, he _knew _it would work.

"Zexion Schewyer."

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**A/N: Does everything make a bit more sense now?**

**Quiz: None for this chapter. **

**Reviews are appreciated. **


	3. Hidden Dragon

**Okay, first off, I apologize for the _severe _lateness of this chapter. It was finished a long time ago, but my beta and I have both been going through some major emailing issues (aka, yahoo and hotmail hate us). The next chapters will hopefully _not _take nearly as long to complete and post. **

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me. **

**I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter, Tysonkaiexperiment, for fixing this and putting up with all th email troubles in order to get this back to me. **

**Finally, on with the story! Moohaha!**

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In the topmost tower of Hollow Bastion's Maximum Security Prison, there sat a young man. He looked like nothing more than a child, dressed all in white from head to toe. He wore the uniform; the uniform of the imperial minded, the insane. The pants that hung too loosely from his boney hips, pooling around those skinny white ankles clad in equally white socks, were nothing to judge him by. He didn't think he belonged here. He _couldn't _truly belong here.

He didn't scream out in terror during the long nights. He didn't try to escape when the doctors shot up his arm with some new drug still in the testing stages. He didn't claw at the restraints that bound him when the wardens had to come and check on his well-being. He didn't even speak about the faces of those that lived behind his eyes, the ones that haunted his every waking moment.

Why?

Because, he, Zexion Schewyer, _wasn't _crazy.

And, he'd never once been. He had simply made the wrong choice, taken the wrong path. He'd done something _human_, something he'd actually _wanted_, and now he was paying the price for it. He'd allowed himself to do something he'd never done before, something that he'd thought was for the best. Oh, how wrong he was. He'd lost everything and he couldn't have it back now; he'd lost that chance.

He'd lost his one chance to ever fall in love, to find something in life that was worth more than his books. He'd lost his chance to truly _grow up_, and he could never get those lost years back.

Yet, he didn't dwell on that fact. After all, what was the point in worrying about what is lost when it can never be regained? Zexion knew the answer to that question: there wasn't one. There wasn't any point in it, any real reason anyway. It would be useless, a waste of his precious thoughts.

So, everyday, Zexion would sit.

He would sit in the awful, blue chair by the tiny, barred window in his cell, its legs bolted to the floor, and watch every second of everyday tick by. He would sit with his odd slate colored hair blocking half of his view and watch the outside world, a blank expression in his eyes as the gears behind their deep blue sockets would whirl. He thought about the world, about the questions that couldn't possible have any real answers. He never once thought of his past. He wouldn't- _couldn't_- allow it. He made their faces disappear when they came to haunt him. He lost himself in a train of useless thought when the doctors had the audacity to bring it up.

No, he wouldn't dwell in the past.

He would _never _dwell in the past.

So, he sat.

He sat in that awful, blue chair and watched the world outside, his mind in constant motion, when the locks began to whirl. He could hear them move from one latch to the next and the next, yet he took no notice. It was a common enough occurrence for the guards to come and check on him. There was nothing unusual about those sounds, nor was there anything unusual about the red-clad guard opening the door and peering inside.

Zexion already knew what would happen next, for it happened every single day.

The guard, Auron, would look inside for exactly thirty-six seconds, and then, he would turn back around and lock the door, pleased that Zexion was still in his proper place.

_Twenty…Twenty-five…Thirty…Any moment now and he'll be gone…_

The moment never came.

For the first time, Zexion looked away from the window. This was wrong. Auron only stayed for thirty-six seconds. _Only _thirty-six. And, this guard was indeed Auron. It was Auron leaning his head to the side as if he was deciding something; something extremely important.

"Schewyer," he finally said, his mind made up, his voice deep and full, "you have a visitor." Zexion looked at him, the visible side of his face was blank, yet, safely hidden behind his hair, the silvery-blue haired man had one elegantly arched eyebrow pulled up as far as it would go.

A visitor…

What an odd day indeed.

**K3YBLAD3**

They'd sent him alone.

They'd sent the junior, the newbie, the _weakling _to come to the prison. Of course, asking for help had been his idea, but that didn't mean that the entire team should make him come here alone. They could have sent Axel or Riku or _anyone _really, just not _Demyx_. He was too new for something like this. He had never been inside of a maximum security prison before, and he'd quickly learned that once this was over he never wanted to come back. The blond had been called weak before and he'd even thought it of himself, but now he actually _understood _it.

He _was_ weak.

None of the others would have flinched every time the locks hissed. None of the others would have had to suppress a whimper when someone let out a shriek from one of the upper levels. None of the others would be sitting with their knuckles whitening from the sheer pressure of gripping one of the only two bolted seats in the room. No, none of the others would be like this at all. They were strong, comfortable, confident. They weren't anything like Demyx. They weren't so weak that they couldn't stop themselves from singing children's songs to themselves when they were scared. They weren't-

Demyx jumped in his chair, trying in vain to suppress a shiver as one of the locks began to let out its signature hiss. Any moment now, Auron, the red-painted guard would walk through that door with the hissing lock and Demyx wouldn't be able to turn back. He wouldn't be able to just forget about his insane, little plan. It was now or never…

It was _now_.

The heavy door in the corner of the room swung open. At first, Demyx saw nothing but the looming presence that was Auron, but, just as he was about to lose hope, a slim figure stepped out from behind him.

Oceanic eyes couldn't seem to stop widening. It was Zexion…there wasn't a doubt in his mind. He just…wasn't what Demyx was expecting, but what exactly was he expecting? That same lost little boy that he'd seen on the news broadcast when he was only fifteen? Maybe. Maybe he was, but this, this wasn't him. This was someone different, not _entirely_, but different all the same.

This Zexion was taller, though not by much, with sickly pale skin that made him look like nothing more than a piece of fine china. His size had diminished over the past seven years. He no longer had a healthy look about him. No, this Zexion's bones seemed to stick out of his skin. This Zexion's clothes were falling off of him. This Zexion…and the other…

They were the same.

They had the same _eyes_.

They shared the same deep, dark pools that pulled a person in by their throat. They shared the same dark crescents that screamed for sleep. They had the same _eyes_. This Zexion and that scared little boy from seven years ago...they had the same _lost _eyes. They were the _same_.

"Take a seat." Zexion made no indication that he had heard the guard, other than a slight inclination of his slim heart-shaped face and a slight step forward. He was watching, watching Demyx's oceanic eyes watch him. It was like they were in a trance. A trance in which they were both trying to learn everything there is to know about the other without exchanging one word.

The blond…he was someone that Zexion didn't know, someone that he didn't _care _to know. He could read this unknown blond like a children's book. He was older than himself, though not by more than a year or two, and he didn't seem to have even an ounce of sophistication. His poise was simply awful, giving him a casual air, but he was upright as well, his teeth practically attacking his thin bottom lip. He was tan, signaling that he was more than likely the outdoorsy type. But…those _eyes_. Zexion couldn't read them like he could anyone else's'. This blond man's eyes were just so…wrong. They were too honest, too sincere. His eyes must _lie_. No one could have eyes like that. _No one_.

"Take a seat, Zexion." Auron repeated with a slight amount of annoyance, his hand on the verge of touching the young man. Zexion _wouldn't _let that happen, so he took a seat right across from the blond man that he didn't know, his poise as perfect as it had always been, his eyes as calculating as they were when he tried to find the answers to the world in the world inside of this place, this prison.

"Umm…hi, I'm Demyx Wendell." Demyx offered his hand from across the table, a characteristic smile on his face, showing no signs of his inner nervousness.

Zexion's hidden eye twitched. Demyx Wendell…it was such a strange name, but it fit him. It fit this dirty blond with the atrocious hairdo perfectly.

Demyx finally let his hand drop back down to his side, after a long, pregnant silence in which it was apparent that Zexion was _not _going to touch him. The blond just shook it off as nothing. Maybe he was just a germophobe or something; it's not like Demyx would know something like that. After all, Demyx had never actually met him.

"Zexion, he has come to make a deal with you." Auron provided from his position against one of the walls, his dark eyes watching the pair intently.

_A deal_. Now, that was an intriguing thought. Zexion had thought that he had already been given a deal…wasn't life without parole better than the death penalty? His lawyer had said that they could get him nothing better then that, so why exactly was it that this strange man actually _could _offer him a deal?

"What kind of deal can you offer me?" The younger man finally asked, his pale hands clasped tightly in his lap. Demyx nearly gasped out loud. His _voice_, it sounded so _young_. It made sense of course, Zexion really was young, only twenty-one at the most, but Demyx had expected him to sound…different. He'd thought that he would sound more mature, less fragile.

"I…" Demyx gulped. What was it that the others had told him? Oh, yes, that was right. "I can offer you a…get out of jail free card. There will be no more prison, no parole, no nothing. You'll have a clean slate."

A get out of jail free card…did Zexion really want that? Did he really want to leave this place? Did he really want to be sent back into the public eye? Did he really think he could handle that…? Did he want to continue listening to the screams of the insane? Did he really want to have to keep wondering what the world was like outside of his window?

No.

No, he didn't want to keep wondering.

"What's the catch?" This couldn't possible be free; nothing is free in this world. _Nothing_. This blond man wanted something. Everyone always wanted something; he had learned that the hard way.

Demyx couldn't keep himself from allowing a grin from practically devour his face. He was reeling him in; he could tell. Zexion liked this idea. He _wanted _his freedom back. "All you have to do is help us catch an on-the-rise serial killer."

"Us?" A serial killer…they wanted his help in catching a serial killer. Would his own freedom be worth the memories that he would have to dig through? Could it really be worth all of that pain?

Yes…it really could.

"We already have an entire team of investigators trying to find the killer. But," Demyx found himself leaning forward, wanting to get closer to this deep, blue-eyed young man, "I don't think we're getting anywhere, so I recommended you to help us. Why let more people die, right?"

"Why me?" Why? Why him of all people? Why let someone like him out of jail just to catch someone else? There were hundreds. No, there were _thousands _of other people, _innocent _people, they could have gotten help from. Why choose _him_?

Demyx's eyebrows knitted together. He honestly didn't have an answer for that question. Why did he pick Zexion? No one else on his team had wanted his help; they'd fought about it for hours before Demyx was finally given the 'go-ahead'. So, why? Why was he so adamant on having help from him. _Him _of all people. "Does there have to be a reason?"

Zexion had to resist the urge to growl. He hated questions. He wanted answers. He _thrived _on answers. Questions…they simply made life difficult. "No, I suppose there doesn't." _But, it would be nice. _

"So, Zexion, will you help me- us?"

The sickly pale man leaned forward, his elbows propped up on the center table's cool surface. Deep, blue eyes locked with oceanic orbs in a silent battle of wills. Zexion's lips twitched into a small, unnoticeable smile.

"When do we leave?"

Demyx couldn't stop smiling.

**K3YBLAD3**

Back in Twilight Town, there was a woman. She went by the name of Mulan. No one knew her last name and no one cared to know it. She was simply too wonderful for the town's people to go digging through her past. All they knew was that Mulan was one of the sweetest women in all of the town. She had short, black hair and a fiery personality that always made the children she taught smile.

Mulan was the town's Karate Instructor. She taught it to all of the town's children; those who could pay and even those who couldn't. She never seemed to worry about money or the way people thought of her, even though they all thought of her as some kind of angel. In reality, Mulan was no angel- she knew that fact rather well, yet she still tried her hardest to live out her life in the sweetest way possible. She loved her life. She loved the children that she taught. And, most importantly, she loved the little town that she lived in, for nothing ever went wrong in Twilight Town.

**K3YBLAD3**

Zexion should have known that his freedom wouldn't begin right away. He should have known that someone would have to watch over him, at least until after he'd kept up his end of the bargain. So, it would only seem natural for him to expect someone from the prison having to watch over him.

He hadn't.

He hadn't thought about it. He hadn't expected it. And, frankly, he was insulted by it. Why did he need constant surveillance? Hadn't he proved that he wasn't crazy? Couldn't they tell that he wasn't a flight risk? He didn't have anywhere to go anyway. So, why? Why was it that he had changed into street clothes (provided by Demyx) with the hope of getting to see the world again with no boundaries, only to find Auron waiting along side the blond, a suitcase in hand? Zexion had wanted to scream out in frustration when he finally put two and two together; he didn't, of course. He couldn't show so much emotion; it would only hurt him later on.

So, in the end, after hours of picture taking and signing forms, Zexion didn't say a word about Auron tagging along, playing 'bodyguard' for all of the people Zexion would end up coming into contact with. He simply followed the strange dirty-blond around like some kind of puppet on a string, seething emotionlessly.

He didn't even know why he cared so much, and that thought bothered him. The fact that he didn't _know why _was possibly the worst thing about the entire predicament. Honestly, shouldn't he prefer having someone like Auron around to being left alone with this strange man with the strange blond hair that had yet to stop _smiling_?

He just couldn't seem to figure out why he didn't.

**K3YBLAD3**

Mulan was busy with her nightly run through Twilight Town's Central Park. It was rather nice out. It wasn't too hot, nor was it too cold. It was the perfect night for a run, which probably explained why she was still out running an hour later than she should be.

He was getting impatient.

He needed her to come back home and he needed her to come back _soon_. He couldn't stay crouched beneath her pantry cabinets forever. If she didn't hurry back, he just knew that the darkness would set in. He just knew it would. Yes, she had to be manipulating it somehow. Why else could he feel his throat tightening, threatening to stop his breath? She had to get back. Otherwise, the darkness would grow. It would consume him, every bit of him.

**K3YBLAD3**

"I'm sorry we couldn't stay in a hotel or something. I mean, you're probably tired and all, and I'm asking a lot, but there's been a murder every night for the past two nights, and Riku- he's our profiler by the way- said that he would probably strike again, so the sooner we get back the better. That and there isn't really a lot of money in the budget right now and…" Zexion tuned him out at this point, choosing instead to watch him through a half-lidded eye instead.

This string-bean of a person…he was just so strange. Why should he be so worried about someone like Zexion- a criminal? He shouldn't; no one else would be. Yet, here he was trying to make him understand why they were sitting in the back compartment of a passenger train, instead of in some cushy five-star hotel. An hour earlier, he'd even offered to buy him some clothes. Honestly, this man made absolutely no sense to him.

And, really, Zexion should hate him for that. He was a person that relied on logic and someone like Demyx just didn't fit that image. He was loud, bubbly, couldn't stop smiling, eager to please, and just so…so _nice_, yet Zexion wouldn't- couldn't- make himself hate him or even dislike him.

Of course, the slate haired young man thought it was only because Demyx had been the means of his escape, his ticket back into the world. He had no reason to think it could possible be anything more.

**K3YBLAD3**

She was home. Mulan had finally finished her nightly run and now all he needed to do was wait. He had already put his plan into action. All he had to do was crush a dozen pills and, even though he could have used another method, slip them into one of the protein shakes she would always pull out of the fridge and drink after her run. Today was the day for her, for there was only one shake that he could slip the pills into; there was only one left.

He watched her drink it, one sip at a time. He could barely contain himself. In just a few moments, she would be-

_**CRASH**_

-on the floor, unable to move, intoxicated.

Feeling accomplished, he crawled out from his hiding place, leather gloves crunching on the floor. His boots clacked as he walked over to her. Mulan just looked so helpless sprawled out on the floor, eyes opened wide, heartbeat frantic. He smiled down at her, a twisted, crooked smile.

She could see him. She could see her killer, a man she knew so very well. She could see him smile down at her. She could see him bend over and carve words into the palm of her upturned hand.

"Shh, shh, my dear, this way the darkness cannot continue to consume us all. You understand, don't you? This is for the good of them all. The good of the world, the town, those pretty little children that you just can't stop teaching. Think about them, dear. Think about them."

She watched him leave after those chilling words spoken so lovingly in her ear. She thought he'd lost his mind, but, if it were for the good of the children, then she would watch her last bit of life bleed away, her eyes never leaving those two words.

_**Hidden Dragon...**_

* * *

**A/N_: _And, I give you Zexion! It only took...4 or so months. ^^**

**Leave a review if you feel the need. **

**Quiz: Would anyone like to guess who's going to die next? I'll give you a hint: They were a popular character in the 1997 run of an animated children's movie, and, obviously, they were in Kingdom Hearts II. However, this particular character was not even mentioned in Kingdom Hearts I.**


	4. Hero's Crest

**Okay, I've finally got this chapter editted! ^^**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter, writesinthunder. **

**Please read the Author's Note at the bottom! **

* * *

He hadn't expected a hearty welcoming, or even a slight hello; it would have been nothing but a lie to say that he did. But, even so, he hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected to be avoided and glared at by the rest of the little 'team' he'd chosen to join. Apparently, Demyx was the only person actually _for _going to him for help. It was a wonder that they even let him come. These people hated him.

Of course, it didn't really matter what they thought.

Zexion didn't care. He was there for one reason and one reason only: his freedom. This was the only way for him to get away from the hell of the insane and, if that meant he had to deal with people that didn't want him around, _fine_. He could deal with them. After all, this wouldn't be the first time he had had to deal with hatred and he doubted it would be the last.

"Uh guys, this is Zexion Schewyer— but I guess you already knew that— and Zexion, this is…just say your names guys, please?" Demyx begged, awkwardly looking between the glaring individuals and the emotionless criminal with the lost eyes. They'd been back for less than ten minutes and this is what happened. It's like neither side was even willing to _attempt_ to get along with one another. He knew he was just the weak new guy— Demyx knew that better than anyone did— but that didn't mean that everyone had to leave him out to dry. Wasn't he worth more than that? In one last attempt at some civility, he turned his oceanic eyes to Axel, pleading for a little bit of help. They were friends, right? He wouldn't just leave him.

Axel sighed, rolling his acid green eyes. "The name's Axel. A-X-E-L, got it memorized?" he smirked that signature smirk of his, stretching back in his chair and spreading out his long, long legs.

"I will…commit it to memory." Zexion mumbled, wringing his hands out behind his back, pale skin stretching over white, little knuckles. His tinted hair fell in front of his face, hiding his darkening eyes from view. It was a sad day when the openly cocky person was the most courteous. A sad day indeed.

Demyx couldn't stop himself from smiling. Axel didn't leave him; Axel was his friend. In the corner of the room, Sora stood behind Riku, who was rolling his eyes with his arms crossed protectively across his chest. Leon grumbled something inaudible under his breath before glaring at Zexion with enough force to make Demyx's smile whither. Zexion, however, didn't even flinch.

"Just make sure you watch him, Auron." Leon growled, acknowledging the red clad guard who was hanging by the door, stony and silent as always. "I already have one serial killer on my hands; I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with another."

Zexion scowled. He was even _attempting _to be civil. Never in his young life had he met someone so blatantly rude towards him. Quite frankly, it was just insulting. But, he could deal with it. He _would _deal with it. He would deal with _anything _in order to have his freedom back. In order to never have to sit by the window and let the world tick by without him again, he would do _anything_. "I can assure you, Mr. Leonheart, Auron won't have a reason to watch me."

"We'll have to see about that." Zexion's hidden deep blue eye narrowed. Rude. The man was just plain rude.

**K3YBLAD3**

"I'm really sorry about Leon. He's normally not so…mean." Demyx mumbled, nervously rubbing the back of his neck beneath dirty blond hair. He probably should have expected such a reaction from Leon. After all, he wasn't exactly _for _enlisting Zexion's help in the first place. He probably only agreed to it to make Demyx shut up. Of course, ever the optimist, Demyx hadn't expected such a reaction.

"It's fine." Zexion said shallowly, once again knotting his hands behind his back, blue eyes taking in the small hotel room he was to be sharing with Demyx. Apparently, the agencies budget was running rather low and Demyx was the only member who trusted him enough to sleep within ten feet of him. Really, what did they expect from him? Was he supposed to slit the man's throat in his sleep? Please. That wasn't even his MO. He would never degrade himself like that— not that he would ever kill again. No, he'd learned his lesson the first time around.

"Oh, okay. Cool." the blond junior detective said, forcing a smile. Zexion found no reason to return it. After all, he wasn't here to make friends; he didn't need such things. What good were friends if all they did was betray you in the end? Really, they were unnecessary nuisances that he couldn't afford to be bothered with. He was here for one thing and one thing only: freedom. Everything else that came about was meaningless. "Um, left or right?"

"Huh?" Zexion mentally slapped himself. Very intelligent. Very intelligent indeed.

"Which bed? Left or right?" Demyx let out a cheeky smile at Zexion's annoyed look, his eyes slightly narrowed with his bottom lip thinned. In all honesty, it reminded him of an angry kitten denied its daily milk. Of course, he doubted Zexion would appreciate the comparison.

"It doesn't matter to me." Slowly, Zexion took a seat in one of the hotel's rickety chairs, resting his head on the back of his palm. He watched with his deep blue eyes as Demyx fumbled his way around the tiny room, moving all of his things to the left side in multiple, disorganized piles. After a moment, he stepped back to check his handy work, before gently swooping down to restack a pile of brightly colored shirts. It was quite interesting to watch, really. It was like he was actually trying to be organized, considering his roommate, and all he could come up with were hastily stacked piles.

"So, tell me about this serial killer, Demyx." the grey-haired boy drawled, watching Demyx's back straighten with hawk-like intensity.

"I'd rather not talk about that…right now."

How peculiar.

"But, isn't that why you brought me here in the first place? I can't exactly catch someone without even the slightest idea of what makes them tick, now can I?" The blond grimaced at the bored tone, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck again, causing the skin to rise and redden. "That would be miraculous, don't you think?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. But…I thought we were all going to go over the case in the morning." Demyx took a seat across from Zexion, tapping his fingertips rhythmically against the table's wooden surface to keep himself from babbling on like the idiot he knew himself to be.

"Of course we are, but I want your _personal _opinion. I can't get that from any case file." Zexion smirked, thoroughly enjoying watching Demyx squirm. Needless to say, he really shouldn't be enjoying it; it's not as if he normally took pleasure in watching people wiggle about, trying to look at anything but him. He _normally _wouldn't enjoy it. However, normal for him included sitting in a cell and looking through a window for… forever, actually.

"Why would you want to know my opinion? I'm just the rookie; I don't know anything about criminology or anything like that." Demyx laughed anxiously, still tapping his fingers in that annoying rhythm against the tabletop.

Zexion sighed, rolling his eyes. This was proving to be more difficult then he'd expected. "Does there have to be a reason?" Demyx bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth, his eyes taking on an evasive air. His resistance was slowly breaking away, and Zexion was relishing in it. "Besides, criminology has nothing to do with your gut feeling, wouldn't you agree?"

The blond sighed, obviously uncomfortable, completely oblivious to the evil smirk transforming Zexion's pale lips. "I guess, but…" he trailed off, unable to think of an excuse. Zexion mentally cheered, delighted with himself for still being able to talk someone in circles. Granted this someone seemed to be nothing more than a mere fool, but sweet victories always leave a better taste on one's tongue when they aren't questioned.

A pregnant silence passed between the two, in which Demyx couldn't stop shooting coy glances at the impatient Zexion, whose smirk was slowly beginning to fade away. Really, couldn't he just spit it out already?

"Demyx, it-"

"Listen, Zexion…the thing is, I really don't know what I'm doing. I shouldn't even _be _a detective and I'm really, _really_ not the person you should be asking." Zexion inwardly groaned, fighting the urge to bang his head against the hotel's shabby table. He wouldn't, of course, but that didn't stop him from _wanting_ to.

"I just want your _opinion_, Demyx." The blond sighed, standing up slowly before getting ready to crawl into bed.

"Fine. I think they're sick and wrong and _awful_. And-and they're pathetic for killing these people and engraving words in their bodies while they're still alive. Are you happy now?" Demyx snapped, his bottom lip stuck out, pouting.

"Perfectly." And Zexion couldn't stop smirking.

**K3YBLAD3**

They were imbeciles, every last one of them. Didn't they understand what he was doing? Didn't they understand that _he _was the good guy, not those idiot detectives? He was the one ridding the town of darkness. He was the one _saving _everyone. They should be _praising _him. But, _no_. They were all going about their days like nothing had even happened. They were useless, pathetic, _heartless_.

Fine.

Let them act like nothing but pure fools; they will see. In the end, they will all see just what he has been doing for them— what he _is _doing for them. They will see how he drove the darkness out. They will all see.

With a knowing smile twisting his thin lips, he pulled back the dark curtains obscuring his view. Not too far away he could see them coming home from a long night out. The man was smiling so broadly, watching his wife kick up her heels, fingering that luscious long hair of hers. They had no idea that they were being watched from afar, as they kissed, as they laughed.

Leisurely, they made their way inside, lights illuminating the windows as they traveled throughout the house. With a flick of a thin wrist, the curtains closed, blocking such a place from view.

Darkness.

He had to erase the darkness.

**K3YBLAD3**

"So far, there have been three victims: two males and one female. Nothing within their history can link the three to one another. All we can say for sure is that the killer is right-handed. Any questions?" The team shook their heads in unison, causing Leon to let out a long sigh. They were getting nowhere at this rate.

"Have you checked for any DNA evidence at the crime scenes?" Zexion asked disinterestedly, mentally contrasting the darkness of the room with his porcelain hands. Three killings and they had found out next to nothing— what kind of detectives were they? Obviously, not very good ones.

Leon scowled. "Of course we have. Forensics turned up nothing. No DNA. No fingerprints. Zilch. Whoever this person is, their hands are clean."

"So, the killings are completely random? Is there anything in common with their deaths? Anything at all?"

"No. One was killed in hand-to-hand combat. The next victim was hung, and the last was poisoned. The only clues we have are the words left within the skin of each victim: Kingdom Key, Star Seeker, and Hidden Dragon. Has anyone found a link between the words yet?"

"Vexen sent for Tron. Maybe he can find something relevant on the web?" Sora spoke up, trying his best to be optimistic. Tron was the best computer specialist within the agency; it was only natural that he should be able to find a link between the words. After all, he was sure he'd heard them somewhere before…he just wasn't sure exactly where.

"Good." Leon grumbled, rubbing at his temples. "Until then, we should review the crime scenes— look for anything we may have missed. Axel, take Sora and Riku to the astronomy tower. Demyx, you and Zexion search the latest crime scene. If anyone needs me, I'll be at the police station." Slowly, the teams rose, and anyone could see that they had no hope, their backs hunched, and their heads hung low. For even they knew the facts— three people had been murdered, no evidence had been found, and a madman- or woman— was still free to kill again.

**K3YBLAD3**

She was sitting at home all alone again; her body sprawled out on the living room couch. The doors were unlocked; the windows were open, letting in such a glorious breeze. She was the perfect target, so blissfully unaware. He could do it now— it wasn't like he wasn't prepared— but no, he wouldn't. Not just yet. It wasn't time. But, oh, when it was…

When it was, he would be free to destroy the darkness.

**K3YBLAD3**

Demyx couldn't stop himself from sighing. Leon was right— the place was clean. Not even a magnet on the fridge was out of place. At this rate, they wouldn't be able to find the killer before he struck again; that is, if he hadn't already.

"They're intelligent, don't you think?" Demyx tensed at the sound. Zexion acted like he didn't care at all, as if a real person— a _breathing _person— hadn't been killed within this very room. It was…sick, twisted, _wrong_.

"If by intelligent, you mean sick, then yeah, they're intelligent alright." Demyx mumbled bitterly under his breath, mostly to himself, though Zexion heard.

"Really, now, you must understand the importance of that information. The killer is smart, they're organized." The young man said evenly, using a carefully latex covered hand to search through stacks of hastily gathered papers. They all looked to be in order…

"Yeah, so? That doesn't make this any better." Really? Did he really not _care _about the woman who was killed here? Did he not care at all? It sounded like he was admiring the murderer's handiwork or something.

"So?" Zexion mimicked, a little appalled. What kind of detective was this Demyx if he didn't even understand the importance of this information? "So, the killer is meticulous. They plan everything out before they strike. They're patient. That narrows down you list of possible suspects."

"Which means that we're most likely looking for someone older, right? Someone who has enough time to watch their victims before they…well, you know." Demyx said, carefully thinking it over in his head, trying to remember what the books had told him from his time in school. Zexion nodded.

At least he wasn't _completely _hopeless.

"Exactly." Zexion smirked, moving on to a different area of interest.

The girl was killed a few steps away from the fridge, poisoned. The poison itself was laced within one of her protein shakes. Over the counter pills were used and they were mostly untraceable. But, the person was not. Somehow, they had to have gotten the pills inside; they had to be close enough to carve the words while the girl was still alive. And, if it was him, he would have done it _himself_.

He and this person, they were a lot alike.

They were patient. They did the math. They didn't rely on buff goons to get the job done. Of course, this person wasn't being played— at least he didn't seem to be; they seemed too sharp witted to play the part of the pawn. But, in planning, in action, they followed the same basic steps. Yes, that person was here and he _had _to have left something. After all, that's how they caught Zexion, right? It would have to be the way they caught the killer as well.

Now, the only question, where would Zexion have hid if it had been him?

Not in a closet, not behind a door, and most certainly not within a separate room. "Demyx, the girl that was murdered, are we the same height?" he asked hurriedly, his words lacking the same amount of etiquette they normally held.

"Well, you might be an inch or two shorter, but yeah, I guess. Why?" Frantically, Zexion moved his head from side to side, his tinted fringe slapping his sunken cheeks. If he walked from the door to the fridge, he'd be able to see everything above the cabinets, but…

He smiled a smile that shook Demyx's very core as he watched it twist each bloodless lip from corner to corner. An evil, twisted smile.

Slowly, the crazed criminal crossed the kitchen to the pantry and dunked beneath the cabinets. And, his deep cobalt eyes saw what they were never meant to see: one very small, grey thread.

"Uh, Zexion…why would you need to know Mulan's height…?" Oceanic eyes watched the too-thin back as it stayed completely still, not even moving to allow breath into the boy's lungs. Nervously, the blond rubbed the back of his neck, latex scratching the skin.

And, then he heard it.

"Because, Demyx, it takes a killer to catch a killer, and a psychopath to catch a psychopath."

**K3YBLAD3**

The darkness…it was ready. She was manipulating it, controlling it. He couldn't let this continue. He _wouldn't _let this continue. Tonight was the night, the night the darkness gave up its hold on her. She would never be touched by it again. She would be free, and so would he.

At least, for the moment.

Carefully, he opened the door. After all, all it took was a little push; it was never locked. He knew she was asleep in her room, because it was late, the lights were all hushed for the night, and above all else, he wasn't there. He wouldn't be home until the light came back. That left him with plenty of time to commit the unthinkable once again.

He made his way to her room slowly, silently. She was sprawled out on the bed, her legs crossed at her slim ankles. Her hair was pulled back, exposing her slender neck, showing off her snow-white skin. With covered fingertips, he tied one end of the rope to the bedpost, and the other oh so sweetly around her neck. She didn't wake up, just like he knew she wouldn't; she always took a pill when her husband wasn't home at night, for she hated sleeping alone.

Of course, he would never strike if _he _was with her.

He kept the darkness at bay and with him home, the darkness couldn't take over. She couldn't manipulate it; she couldn't bend it to her will. But, with him gone, she could. And he, he _had _to stop her.

In one swift motion, he flipped the bed to stand on its end. He watched her struggle, those eyes going wide as she awoke in a haze, her fingers pulling at the rope as it took away her very last breath. It didn't take long for her feet to stop their kicking, to become completely still, the darkness losing its hold. He smiled.

Dead.

She was dead.

And so was her darkness.

Freed for the moment, he engraved two words into the bottom of her petite, right foot and left as the blood began to freely drip.

_**Hero's Crest...**_

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so here's the deal with this story: I'm _busy_. Very busy. Too busy. Kill me busy. So, this story is on the backburner...like the one in the garage that nobody cares about because the food takes three days to cook and...yeah, that kind of back burner. This story is behind about...six otherstories; the next chapter to this story has not even been started on, let alone finished. If you want another chapter soon, you're going to have to review (because I'm a review whore just like everybody else). So, here's what I'll do, when I get three reviews, I'll start the next chapter. At five, I'll start working on it during free time. And at ten, I'll make sure it gets done soon. 'Kay?**

**Reward: HellzLittleAngel wins a cookie for being the closest on the quiz~ **

**Quiz: None for this chapter.**


	5. Monochrome

**Okay, I've finally got this chapter editted! ^^**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter, writesinthunder. **

* * *

"No, no, no…" Demyx mumbled uselessly to himself, his oceanic orbs watching naked ankles hang pointlessly in midair. Blood had crusted over the bottom of her right foot, and a ruby pool had already spread and become tacky on the carefully polished hardwood floor. And, Demyx…he just couldn't take it. He couldn't take the look in those dead eyes, those that had been so alive only days before, that beautiful brown hair hanging so limply about the woman's lean, pale face. He couldn't take all the blood, the never-ending pools and streams of nothing but _blood_. That woman's _blood_. He just couldn't _take _it.

Slowly, as if he was the one who was truly dead, the blond backed away. The others weren't there yet, and they wouldn't be for quite some time; he had enough time for a breakdown. Zexion probably wouldn't even care. So, Demyx, he just walked right by him and made his way towards the back of the house where he could sit outside, where the air wasn't quite so tainted with the overwhelming smell of death and iron.

Zexion's eyes widened in just the slightest way as Demyx passed by him. A moment after he disappeared down the hall, a door slammed, the pictures so carefully hung on the wall tilting. Now this…this was just _ridiculous_. Taking one last emotionless look at the limp corpse, he followed after Demyx, his arms crossed.

Demyx was on the woman's back porch, staring at nothing, his hands knotting together. The man's skin was just so pale: nearly as pale as Zexion's own. How fucking _pathetic_. This idiotic blond was supposed to be a _detective_! Detectives did not just walk out of the middle of a crime scene to run off and have a breakdown! It was _not _under _any _circumstances supposed to happen! And, he'd be _damned _if he was going to let such a thing happen while he was standing right there!

"Are you an idiot?" Zexion snapped, his nostrils flaring. Demyx didn't even blink; he simply continued to knot those long fingers of his. "What in the _hell _do you think you're doing, Demyx?" He didn't say anything; he merely turned those sea-like eyes of his on Zexion's furious, cobalt orbs. "Get in there and do your _job_! Secure the crime scene. Look for new evidence. Do _something_!" And, Demyx couldn't stop the bitter smile that touched his cheeks. So Zexion finally showed some real emotion. If only it was about something that really mattered. "Demyx! Are you even _listening _to me?"

The blond nodded slowly, his eyes distant. "Hey, Zexion?" he whispered after a time, his voice broken. "You're…smart, right? You must be…So tell me, why do people have to die?" And, with that, Zexion's eyes softened in just the slightest way, his anger melting away. There was just something so…innocent about this idiotic blond detective.

He sighed. "Everyone has to die, Demyx; you can't stop that. _No one _can stop death."

"I know that. I know…it's just…why? Why this town? Why that girl? Or the last or those two men? Why them, Zexion?" And, all Zexion could do was shake his head because he didn't have an answer. "You know, I don't know why I became a detective. I love people; I can't stand it when they die. I can't stand the sight of blood. Maybe…maybe I really am an idiot, knowing that and still taking this job." The blond shook his head, stringy hair flailing about his chiseled face.

Zexion's brows furrowed beneath his fringe as he took a seat to Demyx's side. He just didn't understand. "I don't know why; only the killer can tell you that." He mumbled after a time, unable to come up with anything better.

The blond smiled a little wider, completely humorously. "Yeah, well, maybe he can tell me why I became a detective too." Demyx whispered, leaning against the back of the house, the bricks digging into his shoulder blades. The criminal sighed, wondering how this could even be happening. They shouldn't be talking so normally. They shouldn't just be sitting there, but they were. They were just sitting there. And, Zexion thought that maybe, just maybe, this was okay for now. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd originally thought; maybe he had just been overreacting.

After a pregnant pause, Zexion spoke. "I think… you're going to have to figure that last one out on your own." Demyx shook his head at that, his eyes losing focus.

"Maybe it's because what happened to my parents…" He whispered, mostly to himself, his voice trailing off. And, Zexion didn't know what to say to that. What happened to Demyx's parents? Why would they have anything to do with his job profession?

Why did it even matter?

Abruptly, the sound of rubber on asphalt made its way from the front of the house; the team had arrived. Demyx pulled himself up, without even bothering to look into Zexion's cobalt eyes, and disappeared into the house, mumbling under his breath.

"_Why won't these killings just stop?" _

The criminal shivered in the cool night air, running his fingers through his tinted hair. He wasn't there to worry or care or…do anything, really. He wasn't there to get close to anyone, to make friends; he didn't _need _friends. He was there for one thing and one thing only: his freedom.

Now, he'd better start acting like it.

**K3YBLAD3**

"What on earth is going on here?" A tan man with billowing white hair mumbled, looking utterly ridiculous in his nightcap and oversized pajamas complete with a fluffy, burgundy robe. A team of people were just gathered about outside, talking so loudly that they'd disturbed his slumber. And all those lights! Why, he'd never been awakened so rudely at such an ungodly hour before!

Suddenly, a young man broke away from the group, coming right towards him. The young man was short in stature, with the strangest hair the man had ever seen. Did spikes normally stick out like that? "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't stay here. We're just about to put the crime tape up and-"

"Crime tape?" the man cut in. "What happened here?" The strange-haired man bit his lip, eyeing the group of people conversing just a few yards away.

"Who are you again?" he asked, taking a step back, his feet turning up a layer of dirt.

The man smiled, extending his hand. "Do excuse my rudeness. My name is Xehanort Zeel; I'm the owner of the hospital in the center of town."

Slowly, his hand was shook. "I'm Sora Thompson. A young woman was murdered here earlier during the night. Do you live around here?" Xehanort's face contorted to one of utter shock.

"Megara was murdered? No, there must be some kind of mistake. She was such a sweet girl, a friendly neighbor. She and her husband always throw such grand cookouts during the summer months…oh dear, Hercules. Does he know of her death? He rambled, completely surprised by such a development.

Sora nodded slowly. "He's being brought to the station as we speak. Would you be willing to write out a statement? Just for the files?"

"Of course! I just can't believe that such a thing could happen here; it's such a peaceful place." Sora nodded once again, his endless blue eyes glazing. He used to live in a place like this. It was so peaceful… The doors were always left unlocked, windows were left open, and children were allowed to run about outside at the oddest of hours. Really, he couldn't imagine something like this happening where he grew up.

Sadly, Sora smiled the tiniest of smiles. "Things like this only happen when its least expected." The man nodded, silently agreeing with that sobering fact.

"They do indeed." Xehanort practically whispered. After a small pause, he spoke again, a little louder, a little surer. "If Megara is still here, would it be asking too much to be allowed to pay my respects to the poor girl?"

"Of course not! Right this way, sir!" And, so Sora drug the man along behind him as he led him towards Megara's lovingly covered corpse.

Towards the center of the yard, there stood a group of quietly conversing people. They were made up of an increasingly aggravated Leon, an emotionless Zexion, and a tired redhead by the name of Axel, and…well; Demyx was looking a little green. Mostly green, actually, his skin a little too pale.

"One kill a night…man, this guy is sure as hell fast." Axel grumbled, rubbing at his disheveled spikes; he'd been pulled out of bed via pager, giving him a rather rumpled appearance. Not that it mattered. Who was there to see him at one in the morning anyway?

"You sound like you're praising him?" Zexion mumbled, yawning into his pale hand, gaining himself a rather exhausted look from a pair of acid green eyes.

"Fuck, dude, what am I supposed to say? 'Aw, shucks! He got another one'?"

"Why so defensive? I was merely making an observation." Zexion said softly, his hands knotting behind his back. "It's not as if I accused you of—"

"That's enough, you two." Leon growled, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He didn't care that they were simply speaking back and forth, making points in their useless wordplay. No, all he cared about was finding this man— creature, _monster_— before another person was killed, and his team member and some _criminal's _annoying wordplay was getting them positively _nowhere_.

The team was silent for a moment, listening to the peaceful night. This was useless; they were getting nowhere fast. Honestly, they weren't even getting anywhere _slow_, let alone fast.

"Uh, Leon?" Demyx spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm feeling a little…light headed." He mumbled, and, indeed, he did look as though he was about to pass out, his body swaying in just the slightest way while he skin couldn't quite decide on what color it should be: a ghostly pale or a rather interesting shade of green.

"You'll be fine, Demyx. Shake it off." Leon grunted, to which Demyx nodded, albeit a bit slowly. "Now, what is this 'big break' you were in such a rush to speak with me about earlier?" Demyx's shoulders shook slightly as he pulled his hands together, twisting his fingers together at the oddest of angels. Zexion raised his hidden eyebrow. Just what on earth was wrong with this idiot now? He was just fine a few moments ago.

"Yeah, um, Zexion found a thread at the scene of the last murder. We assume it was where the perp hid while Mulan was poisoned." the blond managed to grind out. And, if it were not the swaying of the man's upper body, Zexion would have been impressed. Who knew Demyx could speak intelligently?

Leon's eyes sparked. Evidence. They now had hard evidence. A thread was something much more reliable than a hazy personality sketch and a couple of untraceable pills. "Wonderful. You and Zexion need to head back and make sure that thread gets to Vexen and Mar- Demyx, are you all right?"

The blond nodded, slowly, before he sagged forward, his legs turning to jelly and falling out from under him. Hastily, Axel caught him under his arms, his acid eyes strangely amused. "Yup. The stress of the job finally killed him." he laughed with a cocky smile.

Leon glared, utterly unamused. "He's just fainted. Put him in the back of one of the cars or something. He'll be fine." he sighed. Maybe he really should consider giving Demyx a bit of a break, or at least cut him some slack with the twenty-two hour workdays.

"I'll just take him back to the hotel and get him some soup or something." Axel smirked cockily, striding away while carrying the blond bridal style, leaving Leon and Zexion by themselves. This caused Leon's eyes to narrow. He was really not fond of the criminal; no one should be after what he did. But really, if Leon were being honest with himself, he'd just admit that there was something off about the guy. Something that just wasn't quite right. Maybe it was the way he looked at things with dead eyes, or simply the gleam of that tinted hair of his. Leon did not know. Though, at the moment, something else seemed entirely wrong; he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Unless it was— _no_.

"Zexion," the criminal raised an elegantly arched eyebrow, "Where exactly is Auron?" Leon inquired, calm despite the fury in his eyes. And, to that, Zexion allowed the most charming of smirks to rise onto his cheeks.

"Oh, I sent him after doughnuts and coffee ages ago."

**K3YBLAD3**

He smiled a crooked smile, one he would never allow anyone else to see. The darkness had stopped moving and everything was in play. Gently, he pulled the curtains back, letting in the beautiful light. The gloriously, manipulative light. Off in the distance, there stood the woman's house, surrounded by crime tap. "Do Not Cross", it said in bold, drawn out letters, barely visible under the street lamps. But, he…he could still see them so clearly from his perch by the window. For some reason, it made him smile even more.

It didn't matter to the darkness.

The darkness could cross lines uncrossed by the light, the _normal _people. And, he, he had contained the darkness. _He _had taken it away. _He _had destroyed it.

He was something like a god.

With a flip of the man's wrist, the curtain was closed, leaving the room in deep, everlasting darkness. This was a victory, for sure, but he still had to prepare for the upcoming night. After all, the darkness couldn't be kept a bay for long.

**K3YBLAD3**

"I'm an idiot." Demyx sighed, blowing halfheartedly at a bowl of steaming soup. Axel laughed that cocky laugh of his, stretching his long, lanky legs over Zexion's bed. Demyx rolled his eyes. Axel could laugh all he wanted, but he didn't think it was funny. After all, what kind of detective _fainted _at the crime scene, even if it _was_ from exhaustion?

His kind, apparently.

With another depressed sigh, the blond dropped his soup on the table and made his way over to the window. It was raining outside. He used to love the rain. When he was little, he'd sneak off during all hours of the night just to go play in the puddles that built up on the street corners. Of course, considering where he had lived, that nearly got him killed a few times, but he still kept doing it, despite the criminals. And, here he was, watching the rain, trying to catch a criminal, working _with _a criminal. Maybe he really should just give up. He wasn't cut out for this job.

He just…cared too much.

"Hey, Dem?"

"Hmm…?" Demyx hummed, his forehead now lying against the cool glass.

"You know you were right, right?" Axel asked softly, watching the Demyx he knew practically crumble under the stress of the job. It just…made him sad. The blond turned those oceanic orbs of his on the redhead, raising an eyebrow. Axel smiled a bit, crossing his arms behind his head. "You were right to bring in Zexion. I mean…he knows what he's doing and he's helped. Without him, we might have absolutely nothing besides some dead bodies. Now, we've got a thread _and _some dead bodies."

Demyx's aquatic eyes rolled at that. "Maybe you're right, but we still haven't caught the guy." the blond mumbled, collapsing on his bed, his head buried in his hands.

The redhead groaned. They really were doomed if the most optimistic guy on the whole damn team was moping.

For a moment, the pair didn't speak. Axel simply stared at the ceiling, while Demyx merely stared at the blankets below him. After a while, Axel stood, pushing his lanky frame off the now rumpled bed and heading towards the door. He stopped at the frame, watching Demyx's back rise and fall. And, for some reason, he felt like he should help him. It just didn't make any sense. Axel had always been a loner and now, here he was feeling guilty about some guy he'd only known for a few months. It was funny how life worked out sometimes… "You know, Dem, you picked the right job. You'll see." And, with that, he was gone and all Demyx could do was shake his head.

_Yeah right._

**K3YBLAD3**

"Welcome one and all," roared a voice, rumbling throughout the place, causing young children to crawl just a bit closer to their mothers, "to the show of Merlin the Great!" With a puff of blue smoke, a man appeared on stage. He was old with skinny legs and a long white beard and the kindest, gentlest of eyes.

The man smiled just as the show began. Of course, it was far to early for a magic show, only two or three o'clock in the morning, but Merlin the Great refused to do the show at any other time; he said the late hour added to the magic, and, plus, parents seemed more than willing to pull their children out of bed to come and watch the peculiar man roam about the stage. And, he had no problem with watching along with them.

He watched the old man dance across the stage, leaving light in his wake. With every rabbit filled hat and every young child pulled from the audience, the man would leave just a little wisp of light, until the darkness itself was nearly gone. Then, _he _came onto the stage.

And, all the light was sucked away.

He was a short little man, with flat feet and angry eyes. Every time he spoke or performed a trick with dear old Mr. Merlin, a little bit of the light would whither away into nothing until it was consumed by the darkness.

Quietly, as to not disturb those around him, the man left his seat before the end of the show, a psychotic smile set firmly on his thin lips.

He had found his target.

Of course, it was a little early, only a few hours since his last, but…

_The darkness would not be allowed to get away._

**K3YBLAD3**

As quietly as possible, Zexion tiptoed into the hotel room he was sharing with Demyx. Normally, he wouldn't care about waking the blond, but…earlier, he just seemed so— it didn't matter. He just didn't want to wake him. The idiot needed his sleep and who was he to deny him that? It's not like he was a cruel person by nature. He was simply distant. And, as he'd learned from experience, that was simply for the best, for both him and those around him.

Leisurely, he slipped across the room, pulling his shirt over his head and sliding his pants down his boney hips, revealing pale, unscarred skin. For a moment, he just stood there, thinking, his eyes glazing over. What if this killer actually was smarter than him? What would happen then? What about his freedom? Would they just lock him back up when he'd been so close or…what exactly? If these people never solved the case, they would still be okay. Those people would still be dead, but they could just move on, and they would. But, that wasn't part of his deal. He was only free if the killer was caught. Otherwise, it just didn't apply.

Zexion slowly made his way to the window, a longing look in his eyes. And, as the pitter-patter of rain against the windowpane hit his ears, it occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to survive being sent back to prison. He wouldn't be able to just sir in his chair and watch the world go by without him anymore. He wouldn't be able to follow the same routine he always had before and he wouldn't be able to adjust to the clicking and whirling of locks.

He really couldn't go back.

But, what was he to do if he didn't go back?

His parents had disowned him long ago, unable to except the fact that their son could murder anyone. Of course, he wouldn't have gone to them anyway. They could have never really cared for him as a person. All they ever cared about was their little prodigy with all his pretty little awards. Even when he was a baby, they didn't care about him. They simply transferred him from nanny to nanny. His earliest memories didn't even contain his parents.

No, he really couldn't go to his parents.

But, what else was there for him?

The only people he ever considered to be his friends played him like a pawn. A pawn that was sacrificed. In the end, he was like their useless little play thing. Of course, they'd never expected him to turn them all in to the cops; he wasn't so tightly squeezed under their thumbs that he hadn't had all that much of a brain left. He knew when it was time to give it up, and he did. If he hadn't, the needle would have already delivered its blow and he wouldn't have a care in the world about freedom.

He shivered at the thought, self-consciously moving away from the window and rubbing at his sickly-looking arms. Yeah, he was still alive, yet he really did have no one. Well, no, that was a lie. He did have someone, but …they weren't friends.

_Demyx._

If he asked, he was sure that Demyx would give him somewhere to stay, help him get a job. Anything he asked for, he was sure that Demyx would go out of his way to make it happen for him. Of course, it had nothing to do with him as a person or what he had done in the past.

It was just how Demyx seemed to be.

With a muffled thunk, Zexion landed face first on his slightly rumpled bed, a tiny, genuine smile on his face.

What an idiot.

**K3YBLAD3**

In the background, the audience clapped, loud and enthusiastic, and all he could do was smile his twisted smile as he pulled the dull end of a magic wand through layers of muscle tissue. His smile only widened as the blood began to run and pool, sliding about in endless streams, going on and on, nearly touching the tips of his boots.

Dead.

The man and all his darkness were dead and gone. And, on the man's face stood the proof, drawn out in beautiful lines of red.

_**Monochrome…**_

**A/N: This is the longest chapter so far, I think, but I think that Zexion and Demyx's characters were a little..weird, so please tell me what you think about that. I would really appreciate it. Also, the same reviewing system for the last chapter also appies for this chapter, though I am going to try to get the "I'll Make You Fly" finished before the next chapter of this is posted (I'm about 1/4 of the way through with it at the moment). Oh, and does anyone care to guess who died in this chapter?**

**New Quiz: The next one to die is an organization member with a direct link to Barbossa from "Pirates of the Caribbean".**


	6. Follow The Wind

**And, it's done! It's completely and totally late, but it is, in fact, done. ^^**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter, writesinthunder. **

* * *

"So, it's German, huh?"

"Yeah. Smokey German silk, to be exact."

"Well, I guess that's something."

"Yeah. Something."

The team quieted, processing the discovery of the German silk that was once just a thread silently. After all, there's only so much a person can say at six fifteen in the morning, especially since to majority of them were busy processing Megara's crime scene for most of the night. In fact, several team members were more absorbed in trying to catch a nap than trying to catch a killer, their heads resting in their palms, eyes closed. Leon growled, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, a scowl firmly planted on his face. And the higher-ups really expected him to catch a killer with these people? They could hardly even keep their eyes open!

"Can anyone think of _anything _that could help us find this guy?" he ground out through gritted teeth, quickly losing what little bit of patience he had had when he'd walked into the office that morning; he hadn't caught much sleep the night before either.

Demyx shrugged, being one of the more alert team members. He really had no idea how that silly thread could help them when they didn't have any suspects that they could compare it to. If they ever came up with any suspects, then they could compare it to their wardrobe and easily find them guilty of not. Otherwise, Demyx really didn't see any use in it.

"Have you checked the cost of the thread?" Zexion drawled from his perch atop one of the office desks, his legs crossed elegantly where they dangled off the side. Aside from the dark crests surrounding his deep, cobalt eyes, he seemed to be the most alert of all the team members, even though he was one of the last to get to bed. Of course, living in the prison had gotten him used to sleepless nights, so it was to be expected.

"No." Leon growled, realizing his mistake.

One elegant eyebrow arched spectacularly as its owner's eyes widened in just the slightest way. "Well then, if I remember correctly, my father used to have all of his business suits made from German silk when I was a child; they were some rather expensive suits." With arms crossed, Zexion stood, striding purposefully over to the table in the center of the room and picking up one very small, little evidence bag. "So, due to that little piece of information, I'm assuming that whomever this little thread belongs to is either a very successful business man, or someone who has recently come into a rather large amount of cash that they didn't know what to do with." Zexion smirked, holding the little bag up to the light so the team could get a better look at it.

"So what?" Riku grumbled, resting his chin in the palm of one of his porcelain hands. Beside him, Sora's big blue eyes widened behind his mug of hot chocolate, wondering just what it was that didn't elate Riku about this new development. "That doesn't really give us anything. We can't exactly go around arresting people because they have an abundant amount of cash. Last time I checked, that was considered illegal, which someone like _you-_" Zexion's hidden eye twitched, "-probably wouldn't care about, but, for the rest of us, it poses a bit of a problem." Slowly, Zexion allowed his eyes to narrow; he wasn't surprised. Riku had been against him from the very beginning, so having him act so hostile towards him was fairly normal.

"That may be true, but that doesn't mean that you can't use the thread to narrow down your suspects list. All of the lower class members can be crossed off the list, as well as the majority of the middle class. And, since we're fairly certain that the killer is a large male, due to the amount of muscle required to commit the first two crimes, your initial suspects list can't be very long. It's certainly much shorter than it was originally, and even if by some chance the killer was marked off the list, it shouldn't be difficult to branch out once we've cleared the primary suspects." The slate haired male countered, calmly refraining from acknowledging the 'you' comment— did these people really not read his file?

"But, though that may be true, the problem still remains that we cannot arrest anyone with nothing but a thread to fall back on. Hell, even if we managed to get someone into custody, I doubt very seriously that any judge would give us a warrant for their personal possessions. And, with nothing but a thread, we wouldn't really have much of anything to interrogate anyone with either." Riku explained, glaring all the while at the nimble criminal. Something about him just royally pissed him off. He couldn't stand the man— if he could even be called that in light of his crimes— and it bothered him immensely that the rest of the team just listened to whatever he said without question. Had they really forgotten that he was a convicted criminal? That he had killed people? That he had murdered people in cold blood without a thought in his little head about how wrong it was? Had they really forgotten all of that?

"Of course." Zexion agreed, as calm and collected as always on the outside, while on the inside he was fuming. Did none of these people have any sense? "The thread wouldn't be worth anything in a formal interrogation, but in an _informal_ interrogation, it would be worth gold." By this point, the entire team was watching the two argue back and forth, their naps forgotten. Strangely, Zexion couldn't bring himself to care. "For instance, you could easily let the press know that you've found evidence— concrete evidence. That would in turn put pressure on the killer. Maybe even enough pressure for him to screw up, allowing us to gather more evidence that we can actually use in an interrogation."

"True, but what if—"

"Zexion's right." Leon cut in, hating having to say those two words with every fiber of his entire being. "The thread narrows down the suspects list and gives us a little bit of leverage with the press. Demyx," the blond in question jumped, startled at being called out, "pull out those notes you made when we first got here. I want to know the background of every male who may have enough cash to own the clothes that that thread goes with, do you understand?" Hastily, Demyx nodded, pushing back his chair so fast that his sugar-loaded coffee nearly toppled over.

Grinning that characteristic grin of his, the junior detective quickly began to shift through the files he had made during his initial interview with the towns people right after Mickey was first found dead. He hated paperwork, really, but he was just glad that Zexion was helping them move forward with the case. He and Zexion weren't exactly friends, but that didn't mean that he wanted everyone to keep treating him like a criminal. Demyx may not know the specifics involved in Zexion's crimes, but he did know that the younger male was just a kid when it happened. And, maybe his crimes were really horrible. Maybe he really did deserve to be locked up in that prison for the rest of his life, but…Demyx couldn't help feeling the way he did. He didn't think that Zexion should be continually judged by his crimes. He had already admitted that those crimes were wrong. He'd apologized for what he'd done, and he'd served years for it already. To the others, that may not be enough, but, to him, it was because Zexion was just a little kid when it happened.

And, Demyx had seen him on the television screen when the police arrested him. He'd seen the way he shook as he was being taken away, his eyes red-rimmed. He'd seen just how terrified he was. Because, really, Zexion was just some kid that was left all alone. His parents hadn't even bothered coming to his trial.

"All right, while Demyx is coming up with some names, Sora, I want you to locate the local news manager. Say that we've found something and would like to make a statement. If they give you flack for it being so early…well, just do that thing you do. Axel, I want you to take Zexion and go to—" Leon stopped; his phone was ringing. He checked his watch, eyebrows furrowing at the time. Who on earth would be calling him at twelve 'til seven? That is, unless it was bad news.

Collectively, the team held their breath as Leon brought the phone to his ear, slowly pressing the talk button. "Hello, you've reached Leon." One of Leon's browned eyebrows raised as his eyes scanned the room, lingering on the team members. "Yes. They're all here. What can I help you with?" Leon paused, his body as still as a statue, his eyebrows furrowed, listening intently. "Oh. Who is it?...All right; I'll send someone over right away…Okay, thank you for informing me…Bye." Gradually, Leon brought the phone away from his ear, gently setting it down on the top of the nearest desk, a dark look in his eyes. "We've got some bad news, guys." He said, facing his team.

"Who died?" Axel asked when it became apparent that Leon wasn't going to continue.

"Someone by the name of Donald McDuck, assistant to Merlin the Great up at the magic place in the center of town." The brunette sighed, rubbing at his temples.

"Your killer is out of pattern." Zexion acknowledged quietly, voicing what everyone was already thinking. The team sighed, mulling over that sobering fact. If the killer was breaking pattern, then they couldn't predict when he would strike next. They couldn't tell the townspeople when to lock their doors, and they couldn't tell them who to watch out for. They couldn't save anyone.

"Okay, new plan. Sora, I still want you to talk with the press. Axel, you and Larxene head over to the magic place and secure the crime scene; I'll get there as soon as I can. Riku, I need you to go to the train station and pick up the techies that the department sent over. Are we all good with that?" The team members in question nodded. "Good. Demyx, do you have those names for me yet?"

The blond nodded, quickly standing. "Yeah, sort of. There are still a few of the upper middle class to go through, and I don't have any of the banking records of—"

"Just give me your top choice; forget about the others for now."

"Oh, umm, yeah, sure. That would be Luxord Dorlu. He owns and manages the casino right outside of town; he owns a whole line of them. All the info I have on the guy is from the towns people, though. Apparently, he doesn't come into town very often." Demyx stated, shuffling through his papers until he found the right one. In the corner of the room, Zexion's hidden eyebrow rose just a fraction of an inch; he'd heard that name before. But, where had he heard it?

"All right. I want you and Zexion to go and talk to him, and Auron had better be with you, understand?" Leon shot a pointed glare at Zexion, who only smirked.

"Yeah, sure, but what do you want us to say?" Demyx asked, thoroughly confused. What were they supposed to do? Ask him if they could sample his wardrobe?

""I don't know, nor do I care. Just get me something, Demyx. _Anything_." Leon growled.

"Okay." Demyx mumbled, motioning for Zexion to follow him out of the building. The others shadowed them, content to go about their assigned tasks, leaving Leon to wonder and wait. The man scowled once he was alone, making the bright yellow of the room seem as though it was the darkest shade of black.

Today was turning out to be a bad day.

**K3YBLAD3**

"I see you're a little worse for wear." A blond man laughed, happily taking a sip of his dark red wine. "You look like you haven't slept properly in days."

The man seated across from him smirked, crossing his legs with ease. Let him laugh, he wouldn't be for long. "Something like that."

"Oh? That's not healthy, you know." The blond leaned back, leisurely stirring his wine. "It's not good to gamble in such a state. You might just lose something of value." The man flashed his perfectly whitened teeth, smiling in that charismatic way of his.

"Now, now, we're not all gamblers such as you." No, not everyone surrounds themselves in sin. Not everyone is so emerged in everlasting darkness. Not everyone is like you.

The man laughed again, completely at ease as he unknotted his ever present tie and unbuttoned his costly, silk dress shirt. "I suppose not. Of course, not everyone is as well off either, now are they?" Across from him, the man nodded, leaning forward in a way that was barely noticed. "So, tell me, old friend, why exactly did you wish to come here so early this fine morning?"

"Well, you see, I wished to speak with you about a bit of a problem that I've noticed over the past few days. A bit of a problem that seems to be on the rise." He said smoothly, balancing his chin on two of his long, spindly fingers.

"A problem you say?" The blond man asked, standing up from his comfortable position in one of his plush, leather chairs. "Does this have anything to do with the murders that have been committed over the past few days? They're all over the news; people barely seem comfortable enough to leave their homes. It has been downright awful for business."

"This particular problem has to do with the murders, I'd say, but it's not the murders themselves." One of the blond's carefully tweezed eyebrows rose in question, letting his companion know to continue while he turned to refill his glass. "You see, the problem is not the murders. It's the people who were murdered."

"How so?" He asked, a bit weary.

"The people who were murdered, quite simply, _deserved_ to be murdered." At this point, the man stood, carefully walking to stand behind his old friend, who stood as still as a statue, trying to process what he had just been told.

"You're saying that those people _deserved _to be brutally massacred? What's wrong with you?" The blond asked, appalled as he spun around to face the man he once considered a close friend.

_He never received and answer to his questions. _

As he turned, one of his many collectable wine glasses shattered across his temple, pieces of the finely crafted glass embedding deep within his skull. The man crashed to the floor without so much as a scream, resigned to his fate of staining his precious Italian carpet as he bled out. The murderer couldn't contain the serene smile that turned up the corners of his lips as he whipped the blood splatter from his face.

Slowly— ever so slowly— the man bent down, so he squatted on his knees. Slipping on his well-worn gloves, he repositioned the man he once saw as his friend so that he faced the ceiling, his body parallel with the floor. He tugged a shard of glass free from the man's temple, a ruby stream shadowing it and gushing its way down to the Italian carpet. Carefully, he pushed back the twin folds of the man's unbuttoned shirt, revealing his chest, where his still beating heart thrived. Using the blood stained glass shard he, slowly, elegantly carved three words into his chest, watching hungrily as more blood began to pool.

Once he had finished his task, he simply left, a new confidence growing within him as he got into his car and drove away, not an ounce of emotion present on his tanned face.

_Because he, he was beating the darkness. _

**K3YBLAD3**

"It doesn't look like anybody's here." Zexion observed, squinting in the morning sunlight. He and Demyx were standing side by side outside 'Casino Oblivion', the first of many casinos owned by Luxord Dorlu. Auron was carefully seated in the front seat of Demyx's car, content in watching Zexion from afar.

"Yeah, well…this is Luxord's only known address. According to Jasmine, one of the girls who work here, Luxord lives in his office on the top floor; it's like his own little apartment." Demyx walked forward, gravel crunching beneath his old converses, and tried the door, which opened easily. "I guess we should go inside?" He mumbled, mostly to himself as he looked into the dark abyss behind the door. It was a large room, set up sort of like a lounge, with a staircase on the far side. It didn't look threatening in any way. In fact, it actually looked inviting. But, let it be known that Demyx did not always fare well in closed in, dark spaces. He did not fare well at all.

"I suppose we should." Zexion sighed, slipping past the blond detective to stand in the heavily air-conditioned haven, rubbing at his sun-abused eyes. Behind him, Demyx was slowly shuffling his way into the dark space, clasping onto Zexion's shoulder for dear life once the door had closed, leaving them in the dark. Zexion had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and shrug him off. "Scared of the dark?" He asked when it became apparent that the blond wasn't going to break the silence.

Demyx seemed to flinch a bit at his words, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. "Uh, sort of. I mean— well, you see, I…" The older male shook his head, sliding his hand down Zexion's slender arm in order to grasp his boney hand. Zexion couldn't help but flinch. "Come on." Demyx mumbled after a long moment of silence, walking towards the dim outline of the staircase across the room, tugging Zexion along behind him like a lifeline, wishing to leave that place. He wasn't scared of the dark— really, he wasn't. He _loved _the dark. In fact, when he was younger, he spent hours walking the streets in the wee hours of the morning. But this was different than walking around outside; this was a room. A very dark, very closed in room. When he was younger, he wouldn't have minded such a place, but ever since the day his parents died, he couldn't stand to be in such places alone. He just couldn't stand it.

In silence, the pair ascended the stairs until they reached the very top floor, where there was only one dark, mahogany door with the nameplate 'Luxord Dorlu, Manager' hung across the front. The door itself looked completely normal, but underneath the doorknob, barely noticeable, there was a blotch. A blotch of sticky, red blood. Never once letting go of Zexion's hand, Demyx knocked, his knuckles rapping against the door's dark wood.

No one came to the door.

* * *

**A/N: Hmm...I feel like the beginning of this chapter was really boring (but neccessary for the plot) and I apologize profusely for my failure with telephone conversations. I'm awful. Just plain awful. **

**Anyway, I'm saying this in advance, I will no longer set an update schedule (any at all- even vague ones) because I have now proven officially that I am an utter failure, and therefore cannot follow a schedule of any kind when it comes to writing. However, I will _try _to update once a month; I'm just not sure how well that will go.^^**

**Quiz: In this chapter, "techies" were mentioned. From one of the Kingdom Hearts games, there is one specific person who can be considered a "techie". This person is only associated with one of the four games. Who are they?**

**Please Review! ^^**


	7. Circle of Life

**Hello and welcome to the longest chapter of _anything _that I have ever written! ^^**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter (because she is beyond amazing), writesinthunder. **

* * *

Oceanic orbs met cobalt pools as the pair looked at one another, the unspoken question in their minds. Slowly, Zexion's hand went to the knob; it was unlocked. With a controlled breath, he pushed it open, allowing it to swing inward and knock against the wall.

And they saw.

They saw the spilt remains of costly, red wine. They saw the shards of glass shining in the lamp light, so carelessly tossed onto the floor. They saw the blood seeping on to the plush carpet. And they saw the blond man lying so forwardly in his own blood.

In an instant, Demyx had rushed forward, leaving Zexion by the door. He ran to the man, frantically checking his pulse and, finding none, performing CPR. "You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." He chanted in between breaths, as Zexion just stood, frozen in the doorway, watching.

It could have been hours or mere minutes before Zexion was able to overcome the shock of seeing Luxord's body on the floor— the body of a man he used to know very well. He didn't know. All he knew was that Luxord was dead, and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Demyx." He murmured, twisting his fingers around one of his gaunt wrists. The blond didn't seem to hear him; he just kept trying to resuscitate the man, bring him back to life. "Demyx!" He finally screamed; his voice breaking. And, the blond stopped, removing his hands from that bloody chest, where the words 'Follow the Wind' were so carefully inscribed. Slowly, he turned to look at Zexion, a certain pleading in his eyes, asking for help, asking for a savior. Asking for anything Zexion could give. And, Zexion…he didn't know what to say to those eyes.

"Zexion…" he whispered, his ribcage crashing into his throat, his lips bloodless.

And, Zexion's eyes simply hardened like that of an icy lake.

"You're contaminating the evidence."

**K3YBLAD3**

There was something wrong with him, something very, very wrong.

It wasn't like him to just stand around doing nothing, while everyone around him was busy looking for evidence. It wasn't like him to just watch the body being dragged away. It wasn't like him to actually _care_. It wasn't right. It wasn't who he was. He always compartmentalized everything. He always hid everything away, even from himself. He made himself distance everything, so nothing could hurt him. And now, everything was just crashing down around him, and he had nowhere to run. He had no one to run to.

He was alone, yet surrounded by people.

"Hey." Cobalt eyes narrowed as they analyzed the newcomer. Not unkindly, just indifferent to it all. Slowly, the boney male moved to the side, allowing for the blond to squeeze in beside him, their elbows touching in just the slightest way, knocking against one another. "Are you okay? You can talk to me…if you need to, you know."

"I'm fine." He mumbled, not particularly caring how distant his voice sounded. Part of him wanted to laugh. No because it was funny—no, it was far from that—but wasn't that his line? Wasn't he the one who was supposed to curve the breakdown? When did he become the weak one? "Why wouldn't I be?"

The blond just shrugged, keeping oceanic orbs carefully hidden away. He didn't know what had happened; everything was a blur. One moment, everything was okay, and then…then Luxord Dorlu was bleeding out on the floor, he was crying, and Zexion was screaming at him to just _let go_. And, Demyx just didn't—couldn't— understand. Why? Why Zexion was only affected this late in the game? He had only known him for a few days, so maybe he couldn't really say anything for the younger's character, but this just didn't seem like him. He'd been to the other crime scenes; he'd seen all the bodies. Zexion didn't even seem to mind the blood. No, he was absolutely nothing like Demyx; he wasn't affected like he was. So, why did he now? Why did he only care about _this _case, about _this _victim? Demyx didn't know. He really didn't. "You just don't seem okay."

Zexion nodded, seemingly at nothing, his cobalt eyes blank. He knew what Demyx meant; he wasn't so oblivious to not be able to feel his boney fingers shaking, his legs wobbling, using the wall far more than he ever should. He just…_hated _how weak he was acting, how pathetic he really was beneath it all. And why, because of some stupid memory he held onto? He was just a child at the time; it didn't' even matter anymore. Yet, here he was, unable to forget about that one silly little act. Was he really this pathetic? Had every day of his life living behind a self-imposed mask really been for nothing? He always hid himself away—kept _everything _away—but, somehow, he had gotten hurt anyway. How fucking _pathetic_.

Clenching his boney fists, knuckles whitening, Zexion pushed off the wall, his face as composed as always. "Come on." And, he was gone, weaving his way in between the rest of the team without even the slightest trace of uncertainty. It didn't matter. His childhood, his memories…right now, in this moment, they were nothing. This was a fight for his freedom, and _nothing _was going to stop him. He would catch this man. No matter what happened, he would catch him.

Demyx sighed, following along after him, his shoulders slumped. He followed that slim back all the way back down, into the dark yet again. Except, this time, he wouldn't dare latch on to him; he looked like he was going to break. "Zexion…? What are we doing back down here?"

"Why do you think, Demyx? The killer didn't just materialize here." He mumbled, biting at his knuckles, eyes narrowing as they scanned the darkness. "Actually, come to think of it, our killer probably just came in the front door. We did, didn't we? And the door, the door wasn't locked when we got here; what if it had never been locked in the first place? What if the killer didn't have to force his way inside? What if Luxord _let _him in?"

"Do you really think that's what happened?"

Zexion shrugged his narrow shoulders, quirking the left corner of his lips like he was thinking. "Maybe; it's just a theory. We won't know for sure until we find more evidence, but it's definitely a possibility."

"We could go with that, I guess. I could get Sora or the techies to run Luxord's personal records and find out who he's close to." The junior detective offered, watching Zexion's outline in the darkness.

"Yeah…do that."

Demyx sighed as his eyes adjusted. Zexion's face was whiter than normal, his one visible eye not really focusing on anything. He just…didn't seem okay. "I was serious about what I said before, you know. You can talk to me."

"What makes you think I have anything to say?" The younger retorted, holding his elbows so his arms crossed in front of his chest as he turned his attention to the blond. His face was expressionless, but Demyx could tell that something was wrong.

"Nothing, it's just that you seem so, I don't know, bothered, I guess. You weren't like that before with the other murders—the other victims. I just thought that maybe you'd want to talk about it." The blond shrugged. "It's not like I'm going to judge you or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

Zexion snorted, rapidly covering his mouth as he regained his composure. "I doubt very seriously that _that _is the problem. I don't particularly care what _you _think of me."

"There's no need to be mean." Demyx grumbled, crossing his arms. Really, he was just trying to be nice, and he would be lying if he said that didn't hurt just a little bit.

"That wasn't mean, Demyx. I was merely being honest."

"Yeah, _brutally _honest."

"You shouldn't take it so personally; I don't particularly care what anyone thinks of me. Menial things like that aren't really my problems." Zexion turned away, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The blond literally growled; a low, animalistic sound that vibrated in his chest and wormed its way into the base of his throat. Demyx was normally a very pacifistic person; he didn't like fighting and he never really had a problem with just letting the little things slide, but _this_, this was different. Never in Demyx's entire life has he met anyone as infuriating and rude and _uncaring_ as him. Never! What happened to the scared teenage kid he saw on T.V. all those years ago? What happened to that broken criminal that Zexion had been only moments before? Where had _he _gone?

"You know what, Zexion?" Demyx scowled; his voice low and demanding, because quite frankly, he was angry and confused and, above all else, he was just _sick _of this. He was sick of being talked down to. He was sick of being the weak link. He was just plain _sick_. "I think you're lying. I think you really do care what I think. I think that you care what _everyone _thinks."

One eyebrow cocked viciously as Zexion turned to face the junior detective once again, his stubby fingernails attacking the skin of his elbows. "Oh? I care, do I? Tell me, Demyx, why? Why would I care?"

And, absolutely nothing changed. Zexion's voice was completely monotone, expressionless, uncaring. And, Demyx couldn't stand it. "Because you're scared!" The blond blurted. "You're scared of getting close to people! You're scared of getting hurt! And, don't you dare feed me some bullshit and say that that isn't true, because you know it is! You've been distancing yourself from everyone since the day you got here!" He was screaming. He was screaming, and he couldn't figure out why. He couldn't figure out why he was so mad, why this of all things made him so angry.

Zexion's teeth savagely attacked his lower lip, blood sliding down his throat as one visible eye narrowed violently. He was not scared of getting close to people. He was not scared of getting hurt. He was _not scared_. "Don't be an idiot, Demyx." He snarled lowly, taking one menacing step closer, his blood boiling beneath his skin.

"Don't call me that! I am _not _an idiot!" Long, lanky fingers fisted as oceanic orbs narrowed of their own free will. He knew he should stop this. He knew this was going too far. He started this; it was his fault. He should stop this, but…he just couldn't. He couldn't stop.

The younger of the two laughed humorlessly, leaning in a bit closer, shoulders shaking with rage. "Of course not, Demyx. Of course not. You're just a fucking _detective _that can't stand the sight of blood. You just decided to be a guy that chases serial killers for a living when you can't stand _dead people_. But, oh, don't worry, Demyx. You're not an idiot at all!"

"You know what? Fuck you, Zexion. Fuck you! I went out on a limb for you to get your help with this case, even though everyone else said that it was a bad idea, and you don't even care! You just act like some spoiled little brat!" The blond took a deep breath, smiling in a way that was almost feral. "No wonder your parents didn't want anything to do with you after you got caught."

And then there was nothing but the sound of skin cracking against skin.

With his head snapped to the side, an inhuman sting in his cheek, Demyx knew he'd crossed the line. He'd gone too far. He'd gone way too far. Slowly, Demyx brought his head back around, stepping back as he looked down. Zexion's one visible cobalt eye was wide, hurt, gleaming with unshed, angry tears. And, Demyx didn't know what had come over him. He'd never been so vindictive; he'd never been so cruel.

Just what was this job doing to him?

**K3YBLAD3**

"Okay, team, meet Roxas Strife, our new techie in training." Leon grumbled, gesturing towards the petite youth who stood in the middle of the team's borrowed office. The male had honey blond hair and angelic blue eyes that only magnified when paired with his short stature and boyish face, making him look even younger than he actually was. And, those big, angelic blue eyes of his were trained right on Zexion, making the slender male squirm beneath his skin, his knuckles knotting behind his back, fingers carefully massaging the light bruises from earlier.

The honey blond smiled, showing off his pearly whites. "You're Zexion Schewyer, aren't you?" He breathed, moving close enough to hold his hand out to the uncomfortable criminal, still smiling. Hesitantly, Zexion nodded, shaking the boy's hand, his eyes cautious. "Man, I wrote my thesis on you! Your crimes were so…I don't even know. Meticulous. Experienced. Extraordinary. Any adjective in the book. You're the whole reason I even _went _to college. Of course, last time I heard you were still locked up in Hollow Bastion—let me just say that your jury was completely biased. Forty years would have been a stretch for your crimes, adding in the psychological factors and all, but life? Really, what were those people smoking? I can't believe I'm actually getting to meet you in the flesh! I never even thought that was a pos—."

"Roxas!" Tron, the team's senior technical specialist, scowled, rubbing at his temples as he took a seat next to Riku. "I know that you're a big fan, but could you let the man breathe?" The blond's smile weakened a bit, though not completely, as he rubbed at the back of his neck, taking his own seat next to Axel.

Riku glowered, moving his oddly colored eyes between the blond and the criminal. "Last time I checked, killing people wasn't something to fawn over."

Zexion sighed, rolling his eyes ever so slightly in a way that was more condescending than anything else. This…this was normal for him. This was something he could deal with. He couldn't deal with an angry Demyx that said hurtful things and he couldn't deal with a fan that downplayed everything he did, but this, this he could deal with. Riku was always against him. Riku had hated him before they had even met. And, right now, Riku was his safe haven.

"Of course it isn't. I was simply displaying my right to appreciate such remarkable work. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" Roxas challenged, his light pink lips pressed into a think line, blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

"'_Appreciate such remarkable work'_! What exactly are you playing at?" The profiler stood, his chair sliding back, his hands against the table in front of him. First, Leon allowed that criminal to get out of jail. Then, Demyx followed him around like a puppy, listening to every condescending thing the man said. And, now, now _this_. He had signed up to work for a team that upheld the law, not one that just allowed criminals to walk the streets!

"Roxas, Riku, knock it off. We don't have the time for this." Leon barked. Riku glared, his eyes trained on the little blond that he was quickly growing to hate as he sat back down. "Are we all good now?" The team nodded to their superior, the air tense. "Good. Now, does anyone have _anything _that could help us out a little here? I don't care if it's a theory, a fact. Anything. I'll take what I can get."

Demyx took a deep breathe, watching Zexion out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know why he said what he did. If he hadn't been so angry, if he had been thinking…maybe he wouldn't have said it. Maybe Zexion wouldn't have punched him. Maybe everything would still be okay. Not right, but okay. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Right now, maybe didn't matter. Nothing really mattered.

"Earlier at the casino, Demyx and I went through the scenario of Luxord knowing his attacker. The door was open when the two of us got there and there were no marks on the door that indicated forced entry. It would also explain why someone as cautious as Luxord, a casino owner, would willingly show their backs to anyone while there was a killer on the loose." The criminal shrugged, leaning back against a desk as the rest of the team thought over the scenario. "It makes sense."

"Demyx? Anything to add to that?" Leon asked, curiously examining the purplish-black bruise on the dirty blond's cheek. It hadn't been there before he left for the casino, and it definitely hadn't been there when he had arrived on scene. Come to think of it, the bruise was only starting to form on their way back to the office. And, Zexion…the criminal was normally much closer to Demyx than he was now. He wasn't close normally, but now, they were on completely opposite sides of the room and neither of them would look the other in the eye. Leon committed the thought to memory, determined to bring at a more appropriate time. "Demyx?"

The blond blankly stared at a place on the yellow wall as Leon scrutinized him. He was sure Leon had figured out something had happened between him and Zexion; it was just a matter of what he thought had happened. "Oh, right. Well, earlier, we had talked about following up on the theory that Luxord did know his attacker as a way to narrow down our suspects list even more. We could run who he's close too and figure out who he'd be the most likely to open his door for when no one else was around."

"Sounds plausible to me." Axel chimed in, acidic green eyes staring at the pictures of the crime scenes that lay scattered about the table. Sickening. That was the only word that he knew to use to describe them. Just plain sickening.

"Very plausible. We could run with that. We could _easily _run with that." Leon pondered at the head of the table. "Okay, we'll go with it. None of the victims match up at this point and it's all we've got. Larxene, I want you to reexamine the bodies and see if you can locate any type of pattern in the way the killer etches in the words. Axel, I want you and Tron to head down to city hall and see if you can get into a more in-depth history of our victims; start with our latest and work your way back. Sora, I need you to get in touch with the higher ups and see if we can find anything like this happening anywhere else. I don't care if you have to check records all the way in Radiant Garden, I want it done. Take Riku with you and check up on the local police force. Profile them, if you have to. I want to know what crimes they've dealt with and if they can be any use to us when it comes down to locating our next victims. Roxas, I want you to stay here and see if you can find any relevance to the words left etched into our victims. Zexion you can help him with that. Demyx, I want you to circle around town and interview more of the townspeople. Any questions?" Solemnly, the team shook their heads, those that were heading out making their way towards the door. "Demyx," Leon called once the blond had reached the door, "I would like to speak with you outside for a moment."

The blond sighed; his shoulders slumped as he made it the rest of the way out and waited for his superior. It wasn't a long wait. "You wanted to speak with me?" Demyx asked after Leon had let a few moments of silence pass. The brunette's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes darkening as he once again analyzed the junior detective's bruise; it was beginning to look suspiciously like knuckle prints.

"Yes. I wanted to speak with you about what happened after you and Zexion went downstairs at the casino this morning."

"Oh?" Demyx laughed nervously, strumming his fingers against his jeans. "I thought we already told you. Zexion and I ran through the scenario of Luxord knowing his attacker." The blond smiled, but even Leon could tell that it was forced, that he wasn't getting the whole story.

"What else happened?" Leon's arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes never once leaving his rookie.

"What else is there?" Demyx countered, still smiling that fake smile. He couldn't let Leon know. If he knew, Zexion would be sent back to prison, and…it wasn't his fault. He was the one who crossed the line. It was his fault that Zexion felt the need to lash out like he did. It was completely and utterly his fault.

"Stop playing games with me, Demyx. I don't have the patience. Tell me what happened between you and Zexion or I will send Zexion back to Hollow Bastion." The blond cringed. He didn't want that. That was the exact opposite of what he was trying to do.

He sighed, training his oceanic orbs on his feet that were shuffling along the floor. Maybe...maybe Leon would understand. "It was my fault. You have to understand that it was my fault." He said to his feet.

"What was your fault?"

"I was mad. That's all. I, umm, I didn't mean to start the fight and I didn't mean to say what I did. Zexion had every right to punch me."

"He punched you?"

"Well, yeah, he did. But, that doesn't mean anything. It won't happen again. I just crossed the line, that's all."

Leon eyes softened a bit as they watched his junior detective fidget under his gaze. He would never admit it, but he'd always had a bit of a soft spot for the rookies. They were just so naïve to the way of the justice system, and they didn't really know what human being were capable of yet. They were just like newborn children with college degrees. And, Demyx, he was the most naïve of all of the rookies that Leon had seen over the years, despite what the younger had gone through before he had even become interested in criminology. In a way, he was special. Different.

And, Leon didn't really have a problem letting a few things slide.

"As long as it doesn't happen again. Now, get out of here; I need those interviews."

**K3YBLAD3**

A twisted smirk graced his lips as he watched them. The blond one and the brown headed one had just finished talking and the blond one was getting into a car, while the brunette was making his way back inside. Most of them had left now, though not all. It didn't matter.

It's not like they had a chance of catching him anyway.

They were useless, worthless, insolent beasts. They didn't understand him. They didn't understand that he was _saving _everyone. He was keeping them all safe. The ones that had to go…they were full of darkness, never-ending darkness. The kind of darkness that swallowed all the light, that ate up all the lives in its path. And, they just didn't understand. They didn't understand what he was doing. They never would.

But that was fine.

He would continue until all the darkness was gone, and then, then the townspeople would bow down at his feet! They wouldn't be calling for their silly detectives any longer. They would rejoice. They would praise him like a god, for he would rid the town of its darkness. He would bathe it in light. He would keep everyone safe.

After all, wasn't that his job? Wasn't he supposed to keep everyone safe? Of course he was. And, this way he could. He could keep _everyone _safe.

With that smile still on his lips, he crumpled his newspaper, throwing it away like any good samaritan would before he got back into his car and left. Later today, he would take care of another manipulator. He would take away another one of the darkness users.

But, for now, he had to plan.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Anything else?" Demyx asked, smiling a smile that caused the corners of his mouth to twitch in just the slightest way. He wasn't very far from the local police station conducting interviews with the townspeople. At the moment—and for the past several hours—he had been listening to a gas station clerk by the name of Yuffie gossip about the current murders and events that had happened several months ago. She was helpful, for sure, but he would have been lying if he said that he actually _enjoyed _speaking with her. She seemed nice enough, but she just gave the impression of someone who was good in small doses. A large dose, like the one he was currently being forced into, was not good for the nerves, even for someone as placid as Demyx was when it came to people.

The petite, black headed girl tapped her chin for a moment, thinking as she rang up yet another customer. "No. I think that's all for now. You should check back again tomorrow, though. I _always _know what's going on around here." She smiled, leaning over the counter on her tip-toes. "Oh! Come to think of it, how's Herc taking the death of his wife?" Demyx shrugged, slightly appalled by the blunt tone she used. Someone died, and she was just going on about it like they were talking about the wonderful weather! Did no one care these days? "Don't know, huh? Well, tell me when anything new comes up. 'Kay?"

"Sure thing." The blond mumbled, stepping away from the counter. "When something new comes up, I'll be sure to come and let you know. Now, if you'll excuse me, lots of interviews to conduct, you know."

"I'll see you around then." She waved as the detective made his way to the door, smiling hugely. "Don't forget to tell your boss how helpful I was! Otherwise, the Great Ninja Yuffie might have to come and get you, okay?"

Demyx nodded, shutting the gas station's door behind him as he was finally outside again. He took a deep breath before starting off down the street. It was already starting to get dark out, and he knew that he would have to head back soon, but he wanted to get in a few more interviews before Leon called him back to headquarters. He only had a few at the moment. One from the shy blond girl named Namine that he'd met his first day in Twilight Town, and two more from tailor by the name of Sally and her husband Jack, who had a bit of an obsession with Halloween. All in all, he'd learned next to nothing about the murders. Everyone said the same thing: the victims were good people. They didn't know why anyone in the world would hurt them.

It just didn't make sense. Nothing about this killer made any sense at all. There was no connection between the victims, and they were all of different physical make-ups. They had different careers, different friends. They were each killed in a slightly dissimilar way, and the only thing that even tied the cases together were those seemingly meaningless words that were carved into their bodies. Nothing else was even sort of the same, if you excluded the time frame that only held relevant to the first five murders. And, Demyx didn't know what they were supposed to do. They didn't have any suspects. All they had was some choppy, easily dismissible evidence and a rough profile. There was nothing solid; nothing really useful.

"Hello there! Can you help us?" The blond stopped in his tracks, his blue converses slipping a bit on the pavement. Not but a few feet in front of him stood the source of the voice: a slim, sparingly dressed blond girl with tanned skin. She didn't look the part of the damsel in distress, a smile on her lips and two girls—most likely her friends—standing behind her.

"We would really appreciate it!" One of the friends—a brunette—exclaimed, waving. She was wearing much more appropriate clothing, her thighs hugged by short blue shorts and her torso held in place by a two-toned tank top of sorts.

Demyx smiled. Helping people. Now, that was something he could do. "Sure thing. What do you need?" And, suddenly, the blond was right in front of him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her long, braided hair coming close to hitting Demyx in the face.

"Oh, you don't know how much this means to us! We've been trying to get directions for _forever_, and the people around here must not get visitors very much because they're all like grr at us! I thought small town people were supposed to be friendly, you know? And, then, bam! These people are all so mean!" The girl babbled, even more hyped up than Yuffie had been before.

"Rikku, don't scare the man. You do want directions, don't you?" One of the friends asked, pulling the girls away by the back of her skirt. The blond pouted, nodding.

The remaining friend, the brunette, giggled behind her hand before sliding them both behind her back and grasping them together. "Hello. My name is Yuna, and this is Rikku and Paine. We were driving through here after we took a wrong turn out of Traverse Town, and we couldn't find our way back. Would you happen to know the way?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. You just take the main road straight and it should take you right there." Demyx offered, gesturing with his hands to the main road that ran through the center of twilight Town. The girls practically sighed in relief. "If I were you, though, I would find a hotel and stick around for the night. It's a long drive and it'll be dark soon."

"We'll do that." Yuna agreed, smiling kindly.

"Okay. Anyway, I've got to go, but…stay close together, all right? There's a killer on the loose and I would hate to have one of you get hurt." Demyx warned, his eyes sober, before he started to walk off.

"We'll be careful! Thank you very much!" Yuna called after him, waving along with the other three girls. The blond smiled to himself as he kept walking along the sidewalk. Helping people.

Yes, he could definitely do that.

**K3YBLAD3**

He felt sick. So very, very sick. For some reason, ever since Rafiki had had his daily morning coffee, he had had a sickening headache. As the day wore on, it just got worse and worse. He actually had to leave work early because of it, and he hadn't missed an appointment since he had developed a devastating case of mononucleosis back when he was just starting out. His life practically revolved around his job ever since his godchildren had gone off to college, and here he was, all alone in a dark house, resting his head resting on an overused evergreen pillow with his eyes closed. It was pathetic.

He wasn't like this.

He wasn't the type of person that let a silly headache take over his entire day. No, he was more of a get-up-and-go type of person. He was the kind that got up every morning and was just happy to be alive. He was the kind that didn't have a problem with singing in the shower and doing a little bit of the dirty work. Not that that changed anything. He was still just lying about on a perfectly nice day, doing absolutely nothing productive.

The man groaned as his stomach clenched a bit, the headache spiking. Maybe he was getting sick. Maybe he should call someone. Or, maybe he was just getting old. His bones already creaked when he moved; it would make sense for him to have headaches and stomach pains. There was nothing miraculous or abnormal about that, especially for someone his age. He should just take a pain killer of some kind. It was not big deal, after all.

Slowly, Rafiki made to rise off the couch, his arms hardly supporting his weight in their weakened state. And, then, he couldn't breathe. Reflectively, he grabbed at his throat, trying to force the air to make it down his airways. His body fell back down onto the plush fabric of the couch, seizing and twitching as the man choked, his body turning nasty shades of red and violet as what little bit of built up air Rafiki had vanished.

Then he was gone. And, he didn't even get a chance to see the nasty smirk of the man who so lovingly carved three little words into his neck.

He didn't get to see him at all.

**K3YBLAD3**

Leon really irked him. Not only was the man blatantly rude to him, but he obviously didn't seem to care that he had been staring at him for the past two hours without even so much as glancing away while he was taking phone calls. And, quite frankly, Zexion was sick of it. It literally made his skin crawl. Leon's stares were exactly the same as those of the reporters that hounded him during his trail; they were the same as those of every cop who questioned him. They were all the same, and they were nasty. Angry. Analyzing.

He couldn't stand it.

"You okay, Zexion?" Roxas asked, watching the slate haired male out of the corner of his eye as he tried another one of the words from the victim's skin. He was genuinely concerned for the man, who was admittedly younger than himself. He was practically his idol, and it just seemed strange to watch him in the flesh. It was one thing for him to watch old tapes of his trail, his arrests, but to actually have him in the same room as him, to actually be able to watch _him_. It was something else. Roxas was mentally committing everything to memory. The way the man walked with his head held level, like he was confidence in himself, even though half of his face was hidden, like he was scared, like he was trying to hide from searching eyes. The way the man's visible eye would look at something for just a moment before darting to something else, absorbing information like a sponge. Roxas was even memorizing the intervals at which the man knotted his fingers together behind his back.

He was, undeniably, obsessed.

"I'm fine. Have you found anything of relevance yet?" Zexion asked disinterestedly, his visible cobalt eye scanning the crime scene photos that he had laid out in front of him. To an outsider, it probably looked like he was engrossed with his work, analyzing each photo diligently, but he knew differently. He couldn't concentrate on anything, not with Leon looking at him in the way he was. Of course, normally Zexion would have just ignored it. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him at all. But, not now. He was on edge. He had been careless. He'd attacked Demyx out of anger and as time wore on, he was sure that Leon knew it. And, if he knew, that meant that any moment know the brunette could send him packing; he would never again have another chance at freedom. That couldn't happen. It just couldn't.

"Nope. I haven't found anything yet. It's like this guy is—hey, wait a minute! I think I've got something!" Both Leon and Zexion stilled, bodies erect as they listened to the constant taping of the computer keys, getting faster and faster as adrenaline coursed through Roxas' veins. The blond gasped, the computer keys going silent.

"Roxas?" Leon asked, finally tearing his eyes away from Zexion's slim frame to stare at the back of the honey blond. "What is it? Do you know what the messages mean?"The blond smiled, spinning in the computer chair until he was facing the others head on.

"It's _Kingdom Hearts_."

* * *

**A/N: And there is a (real) plot within this jumbled mess that is (seemingly) random! But, the real question is~ have you found it yet? **

**Anyway, this took me about two months to complete (even though I'm going to be honest and say that I didn't even start this chapter until the end of the week before last- I know; I fail), but I think things should go a bit faster from now on. I have _finally _found my muse with this story (oddly enough, it's a song called Boys! Grab Your Guns by My American Heart and has absolutely _nothing _to do with this story), and will hopefully have the next chapter out a lot quicker than any of the previous ones. Don't hold me by that (since we've already proven my fail updating skills), but look out for it anyway. **

**Winner of the Previous Quiz: youngnozomi**

**Quiz: A character that has already been introduced briefly will play a major role in the next chapter. This character is mentioned in _at least _two Kingdom Hearts games, and is typically seen in most fanfictions as a relative of Cloud. Who are they? **

**Please Review! ^^**


	8. Gull Wing

**Happy Halloween!**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter, writesinthunder. **

* * *

"What is _Kingdom Hearts _exactly?"

"It's a book series." Roxas explained to his new boss, spinning so he was facing the computer screen once again. "Each set of words etched into the victims' skin corresponds to a different form of this thing the main character uses to fight the 'heartless' called a keyblade. So far the book series includes a total of four books, and was written by a man by the name of Ansem Wise. And, get this, according to this information, he doesn't live all that far from here. Only a few miles out of town."

Leon crossed his arms in front of his chest, his deep set eyes sober as he mulled over what Roxas had just said. If the killings had been done in response to the books, then they could be looking for an obsessed fan, an unhappy customer, or even the writer himself. The list of possibilities was still far too long to accurately allow for any real elimination. Finding the killer would be like finding a needle in a haystack, a tedious and nearly impossible task. But even so, he would find this man. "Good. That's good. Tomorrow morning we'll send some people over to interview him after the press conference. While they're there they can check out his house too. If we're lucky we'll find something that links him to the killings. If not we can either eliminate him as a suspect or keep him as a person of interest. Any questions, you two?"

Zexion's eyes narrowed, hidden mostly beneath his fringe as he absentmindly continued to scan the crime scene photos. Something about this just seemed too easy to him. Why would the author kill people and then carve the words into their skin? For someone who seemed so meticulous and so careful, it just wouldn't make sense. It would be too obvious that they were linked with the books. After all, the killer had probably already come to the conclusion that they would find out about _Kingdom Hearts_; they couldn't have been oblivious to that fact. So, it only stands to reason that they wanted for them to find out about the books, that it had all been planned out from the very beginning. "He didn't do it." Zexion mumbled with his usual eloquence, shifting so that he was facing Leon, one cobalt orb demanding attention.

"What makes you so sure?" Roxas asked from his space near the computer screen. He smiled to himself his lungs fluttering with anticipation. He'd been waiting for this chance. The chance to see Zexion's brilliant mind put to work. He just hoped that the criminal's skills hadn't dulled due to years of isolation.

"It's actually rather simple. The person we're looking for hasn't left behind any real, tangible evidence that brings us any closer to finding him. The thread that he left may help us once we find him, but, in reality, it is mostly useless in narrowing down our initial suspects list, aside from the fact that the cost of it removes the lower class. Do you see what I mean?" Zexion asked, his head cocked to the side in just the slightest way, all analyzing stares momentarily forgotten.

"Yeah, I guess." Roxas' brows furrowed. Zexion spoke the truth—just like he knew he would. The team's leader said nothing, but instead nodded silently in a way that spoke of both understanding and urgency.

"So, keeping that in mind, why would this killer leave clues that lead us straight to him? Why would he do something that is so against everything else he's done so far?"

"He wouldn't." Leon voiced, his tone void of all emotion.

"Exactly." Zexion smirked, turning back to the photos. "So, why would our killer leave us such a tangible set of clues? The words aren't meaningless, that's for sure, but is it even possible for us to figure out what they're supposed to mean? As a whole, I don't think the words mean anything to us in general, but they have to mean something significant to our killer."

"So, you're saying that the guy that's been going around killing all these people has to be a fan of the series, right? And not just a normal fan either, but someone who's literally obsessed with it?" Roxas asked, catching on quickly to the criminal's train of thought.

"Most probably." The youngest of the group shrugged, his slate fringe jolting in place. "Of course, I wouldn't eliminate anyone based on that—it's just a theory at this point. However, I would definitely use it as an outline. If we could find someone who fits the mold that we've already created exactly, then I would check them more thoroughly than the rest of the townspeople. Most fanatics stand out as it is, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find a fan in a town as small as this one."

"We could work with that." Leon mumbled, mostly to himself. Even though he hated to agree with criminals, he couldn't argue with this. It made sense. It made perfect sense. "Okay. Roxas, I want you to check for anything you can think of when it comes to this series. Get me all the information you can on Ansem, _Kingdom Hearts_, and any fans that may have breached the legality point by tonight. Do you think you can handle that?"

The blond smiled. "Of course I can. Give me an hour and it will be printed, filed, and waiting for you on your desk."

"Excellent." The team's leader stated rather blandly, pulling out his company issued cell phone just long enough to type a quick message to his subordinates, calling them back in for a recap.

"I think you're forgetting something." Zexion drawled after a long period of tense silence, his one visible eye stone cold and condescending.

"And?" Leon asked.

"Roxas said that each killing had a set of words that corresponded to a form of the keyblade within the books series."

"Your point?"

"Just how many forms are there?"

**K3YBLAD3**

Demyx hated silence. He absolutely hated it. The silence had a way of deafening everyone, the tense air bombarding eardrums and stiffening one's thought process. To Demyx, silences like the one between he and Zexion were just wrong. They destroyed everything. And he, he had seen enough destruction to last a lifetime.

"You're sorry?" Zexion repeated dully, not quite believing what he was hearing, his arms crossed protectively in front of his chest as he stood in the middle of the hotel room. They had just gotten back from Leon's briefing a few moments earlier and, after hours of silence since the incident, the blond had just blurted out an apology. Zexion nearly wanted to laugh. _Demyx _was apologizing? He punched the imbecile in the face and he was the one to apologize. Since when did that make any sense at all?

"Yeah." The blond mumbled, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck in that anxious way of his. "I mean…I don't even know why I said that. I was just so angry…and normally I'm not like that."

"So I've noticed." Zexion drawled from his space not even a whole six feet away, one cobalt pool watching Demyx's every expression, trying to read him, attempting to understand. It was no use. Zexion had never been good with understanding human emotions—as he had proven numerous times before—and Demyx's emotions were most certainly human. "What I don't understand is why you're apologizing to me. Shouldn't I be the one to apologize?" He voiced, his back stiff.

The blond smiled at that, lightly fingering the discolored bruise he was now sporting. "Oh, yeah, well, I started the fight in the first place, right?" The younger of the two nodded, even though he knew that was a debatable fact. "Right. And, I'm the one who made you angry in the first place. I really don't know why I said that….I _shouldn'_t have said that."

"So, you're saying that—logically—since you caused the fight in the first place, I was just acting on what you said, which resulted in me hitting you?" The blond nodded, causing Zexion to roll his eyes as he took a seat on the rather uncomfortable hotel bed. "That's idiotic." He scoffed, beginning to remove his shoes in an almost painstaking manner.

Demyx's eyebrows furrowed as he took a seat opposite the criminal, his mouth quirking downward in just the slightest way. "How so?"

"Because, Demyx, that isn't logical at all. You're completely ignoring my portion of the disagreement. I could have easily ended it by going along with whatever you said. However, instead, I fought back. That puts at least half of the blame onto me." The criminal stated simply, removing his shoes and placing them perfectly parallel to the nightstand in between the two of them, the tips facing the television on the opposite wall.

"I guess that's true, but…why does it have to be logical? Can't I just apologize because I'm willing to take the blame for what happened earlier?"

"No." Zexion cut in quickly. "You can't. Everything has to be logical. Otherwise, nothing would make any sense. Besides, if I were to let you take all the blame, I wouldn't be taking any responsibility at all and another incident like the one this morning could easily reoccur. That wouldn't be good, now would it?"

"Guess not." Demyx breathed, lying back on the bed as silence once again engulfed the two. It wasn't long before the blond could hear Zexion's light footsteps as he made his way into the bathroom, the sound of water hitting cool tiles following soon after.

He didn't get it.

He really didn't understand why Zexion was just so…_different. _In the beginning, when Demyx had taken him to meet the team for the first time, he had seemed so nervous, his hands knotting behind his back, thinned knuckles going white with pressure. But, then, when it came down to it, his voice had been steady; his head was held high. It was like he was putting up a front of sorts when he was around other people. When he was around the team, his manner was condescending and educated, understanding things quickly and willing to voice his thoughts on a topic at any given moment. Yet he still maintained his nervous habits, like they were his own personal security blanket.

Then, whenever the two of them were alone, he seemed to let more of himself show. It wasn't obvious, but his mannerisms seemed to change. He seemed more relaxed, even more emotionally available at times, not quite so detached. But, still, he didn't seem like he was completely human at times. Demyx had never been considered very smart by anyone, unless someone was asking him a series of music trivia, but generally he understood people. He could tell when a person was sad or happy, and he'd never really had a problem when it came to speaking with people he didn't know. However, that being said, he really didn't understand Zexion at all.

Maybe he wasn't supposed to understand him, even though he really wanted to.

"Do you still want to know?" The blond jumped, tumbling off the hotel bed in a way that could never been described as graceful. One slate eyebrow arched as the criminal squatted down so that he was nearly at eye level with the older, a dampened towel crumpled in between his crossed arms.

Nervously, the blond laughed, brushing his unruly hair out of his oceanic eyes as he sat up, less than a foot away from the very object of his musings. "What?"

"Do you still want to know why I acted the way I did after we found Luxord's body?" Zexion said evenly, his eyes downcast. "You were rather persistent earlier."

"Only if you want to tell me."

Cobalt eyes glared as lips quirked upwards. "That's not what I asked; I asked you if you _wanted _to know. This has nothing to do with me."

"That doesn't make any sense. How can it have nothing to do with you when it's about _you_?" Demyx asked, fingertips nervously tapping the hotel's carpet.

"Do you want to know or not?" Zexion demanded, his voice holding none of the bite that the words did.

Demyx didn't have to think about it. Zexion was peculiar; he was different. And, maybe it wasn't really his place to ask or to know, but that didn't change anything. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to know everything he could about Zexion. "Yes. I want to know."

The criminal just smiled a little ruefully, one pool of bottomless blue deepening in just the slightest way. "You know, it's simple really, I knew him."

"Wait, you knew Luxord?" Demyx asked. "Why didn't you mention that before?"

"I didn't know." Zexion stated simply, leaning back so that he was seated on the floor as well. "I didn't remember him by name and I didn't know him very well. After all, I only met him when I was really little. It was late one evening, sometime in July if I remember correctly. My parents were attending a party at one of Luxord's casinos. They hadn't found anyone who could watch after me for the night, so they brought me along with them. There were so many people at the party that I lost my parents within the first ten minutes of being there; I got lost." He smiled sadly, remembering, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin on top them.

"You got lost." Demyx repeated, mesmerized by that one little smile. He'd never seen him really smile about anything. Sometimes, he would smirk or grin in a near haughty manner, but he had never actually smiled.

It was brilliant.

"Believe it or not, my sense of direction is minuscule at best." The younger explained. "It was even worse when I was younger. And, of course, I was completely lost at that party. I remember that the entire casino was set up like a labyrinth of sorts; the walls made of velvety red curtains that stretched from one room to another. Everyone towered over me, and somehow I ended up huddled in a corner, half hidden behind a fountain. I don't even remember how I managed it. After a while, this man walked up to me."

"_How's the weather down there, little man?" He asked, his head tilted slightly to the side as he bent down to my level. _

_My lips pursed as I pulled my knees closer to my chest, the crowd becoming nothing but background noise. "The same as it is up there, I would assume." I mumbled, glaring at the man through my overgrown hair, though I'm sure it came out to be more of a pout than anything else. _

_He laughed, standing tall once again and holding his hand out to me. "A smart little thing you are." He managed through his laughter, extending a hand out to me. Hesitantly, I took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. "How about you come with me?"_

"_I'm not supposed to go anywhere with strangers." _

"_Heh. That's playing it smart, kid." He smiled, showing off pearl whites as he fingered his goatee. "How about this, then: my name is Luxord; I run this casino. If you come with me, maybe we can find your parents. Does that sound all right?" I nodded, and allowed him to lead me towards the front of the casino. He called my parents over the intercom, but no one showed up. I knew they wouldn't. "So, I guess it's just you and me, huh, buddy?" _

_He didn't seem to mind leaving the party behind to take me upstairs to his private office. He made me a bed out of his office chairs, and gave me his jacket to use as a blanket while we waited for my parents to show up. They didn't. Luxord ended up having to drive me home early the next morning. My parents were already there; they didn't even know I was missing. _

"Don't look at me like that, Demyx. I can't stand sympathy." The blond ducked his head, curving his feet inward so his toes touched.

"But, they forgot about you." Demyx justified. He didn't have parents anymore, but while they were still alive, he was their world. They did everything they could to make him happy. He couldn't even imagine having parents that forgot about him. "Weren't you sad?"

Zexion laughed hollowly, shaking his head. "No. Trust me, my parents never really cared about me. By the time I met Luxord, it didn't even really bother me anymore."

"That's not right, though. Parents are supposed to care about their kids. They're supposed to love them and take them to play dates and make their favorite dinners when they've had a bad day." Demyx rambled, leaning towards Zexion, so they were nearly nose to nose. The younger leaned back, away from the blond, eyes widening in shock. "You're not supposed to get used to that sort of thing."

"Demyx," Zexion sighed, "let it go. It doesn't even matt—"

"It does too matter!" Demyx growled. "How am I supposed to let something like that go? It's not right! Parents aren't supposed to act like that!"

"_Demyx_." The criminal growled, cutting him off mid-rant, one hand held up—palm out—in a no nonsense manner. "You're idea of a parent is ideal, but no necessarily true. There are different kinds of parents, and my parents were obviously a different type than yours."

Suddenly, the smaller of the two stood, climbing onto his bed, too-long pajama pants pooling around his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Demyx, I'm going to bed. You'd best do the same; Leon wants us ready for the press conference an hour before it starts in the morning."

The blond nodded, slowly climbing into bed himself, still dressed in his clothes of the day. And, just as he was falling asleep, the entire hotel room bathed in everlasting darkness, he heard a barely audible whisper from the bed beside his own, Zexion's voice hushed and slurred with sleep.

"_I'm sorry, too."_

**K3YBLAD3**

"Are we ready?"

The team nodded dismally, a few standing together in a small clump, while the rest were dispersed randomly throughout the office. The press conference was about to begin—an event that no member of the team was particularly looking forward to. Press conferences always went the same: the team would release a sketchy profile and inform the public of what they could, while the press would blow things out of proportion—whether or not exaggerations were possible when it came to this case was debatable— and twist whatever words that were said into a form that fit their preconceived ideas. In all honestly, these press conferences would most likely be considered a waste of valuable time if it wasn't for the fact that the public was warned of the killer's previous activities. Of course, all aggravating acts of the press aside, this conference would give them a chance to release news of the thread, which may or may not follow along with Zexion's initial thought that the killer would slip up again once he realized that he'd already messed up once.

Of course, things could turn out just the opposite, but that didn't keep them from hoping.

"Good." Leon mumbled. "Everyone knows what they're supposed to say, correct?"

"Yeah." Axel voiced over his battered clipboard, his body bent over Roxas' as he attempted to scrawl notes onto the thing with the added help of the honey blond's firm back. "We've got everything. Sora and I are the only ones that are supposed to release anything about the killer other than you. Tron is supposed to explain how we believe that the popular book series _Kingdom Hearts _is involved with a little bit of extra help from Roxas. Riku is to answer any questions involving the company, and everyone else is just supposed to look pretty, with the exception of Zexion and Auron, who are _not _under _any circumstances _allowed within one hundred feet of those cameras. We've got it, Leon. Now, stop fretting like some mother hen, would you?" The flamer grumbled, narrowing his acidic green eyes in the direction of his boss. The brunette simply growled lowly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, ignoring his subordinate to the best of his abilities.

The conference was going to begin in less than an hour and so far everything was going well in Leon's mind. With the exception of finding the body of a man by the name of Rafiki Gene, a physical therapist that worked at the local hospital, Leon's day had been relatively easy so far. All he had to do was survive the press conference before he was free to send his team out to gather more evidence. He would have to see how well that played out before he planned the team's next move, but, if all went well, he would be able to arrest a suspect or two before the night was out. Of course, that was only if things went _extremely_ well, but every once in a while even people like Leon allowed themselves to wish for things.

"Help! Help! Help!" The team members jumped—with the exemptions of the older, more experienced members, such as Leon and Auron—as the door was knocked open, banging into the adjourning wall, as petite blonde girl scrambling in. She looked frantic, her eyes wide, her long hair a tangled mess as she picked herself up off the carpet, not even caring that her knees were scrapped and bloodied. "We need help! Please, please, you've gotta help us!"

"Rikku?" Demyx exclaimed incredulously, his oceanic orbs widening as he grabbed her by the upper arm. She wrenched it away almost violently. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"She's gone! That's what's wrong!" She took a deep breath, as if trying to clear her head, eyes threatening to overflow with tears. "She's just gone…. We were looking for a hotel room like you told us to, and we were just walking. All three of us." She mumbled, hugging herself as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "I don't understand. We stayed together; we were careful, just like you told us to be. Where'd she go? She was right there. I swear, she was right there…" Rikku trailed off, her lips quivering like she was trying to hold in sobs.

"Do you know this girl?" Leon asked, surprisingly calm.

Demyx nodded, hesitantly patting the girl on the back in a comforting sort of gesture. "Yeah. I met her and her friends yesterday while I was out collecting interviews; they needed directions to Traverse Town."

"I see." Leon's brows furrowed. "You said she and her friends were in need of directions, and before she said three. Where's the third?"

Rikku sniffled. "Paine. She's still out looking. We've been trying to find her all night, but…it just happened so suddenly. She was only a few steps ahead of us, I swear, and she turned the corner only a few seconds before we did. But, when we went to catch up with her, she was nowhere around. I thought that maybe you could help us find her." She looked up hopefully, her glistening eyes staring right into Demyx's soul.

And, he couldn't help but think that this was all his fault.

**K3YBLAD3**

"_This is a warning from Home Security. Twilight Town is now under and official alert. Curfews are to be put into effect later this evening. No one is to be out after sundown. We advise the public to stay in groups of four or more while out of the house, and to keep both their doors and windows locked at all times. This matter will be resolved as quickly as possible. _

_We also ask the public to be on the lookout for a nineteen year old girl by the name of Yuna West. She is roughly 5'5'' with short, brown hair. She was last seen on route 496 last night after sundown. If you have any information pertaining to her whereabouts, please contact the local police department hotline at 386-89-FOUND._

_We appreciate your assistance in this matter, and promise that this man will be apprehended as soon as possible. May fortune b__—"_

**Click**

"How sweet." He smiled, a twisted sort of smirk as he calmly set the remote aside, fingering the controls in an almost trained manner. "Can you believe how quickly news spreads in places such as this?" He asked, turning his nasty eyes to his captive.

The girl shuddered, struggling with the restraints that kept her hands tied so securely behind her back. She wasn't very strong, nor was she very agile or fast, but she knew that, if she could just get her hands free, she could get away. But, she couldn't. She couldn't get free, and he just kept getting closer and closer, watching her like she was some sort of bug that he had to exterminate.

"Now, now, it's not considered very polite to ignore a person who's speaking to you, you know." He chided lightly, bending down so that he was eye level with the girl, his icy coated breath chilling her nearly numb cheeks.

"Neither is tying someone up and stashing them in a freezer." She remarked evenly, still struggling against her bonds.

He laughed. "I suppose it isn't. Of course, it's not that I like doing this to you; it's just that I have to."

"Then let me go. You don't have to hurt me." Slowly, she inhaled, allowing the frozen air to fill her battered lungs. "You can just blindfold me and leave me somewhere. I won't tell them who you are, I promise. Just let me go…please, just let me go." She begged, voice weakening and breaking with every word she spoke, tears spilling over the rims of her strangely colored eyes.

"Wouldn't that be nice?" Threateningly, he leaned in closer, eyes narrowing. "But, you see, little girl, I can't do that. You're practically bathed in darkness, my dear, and I can't let you live with you being the way you are. It's nothing personal; it's simply a fact."

"What does that even mean?" She whispered, lips quivering as she pulled as far away from him as the restraints would allow her.

"I think you know."

And, then, all that could be heard was screaming as he carved letters onto her fingertips, tiny rivulets of blood dripping onto the floor.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Namine, hurry up! We're going to be late!" Kairi whined from her space on her family's back porch, her thumbs hooked in the back pockets of her jeans as she waited for her younger sister to get back from the junk heap next door. She was used to waiting for her—Namine had never been particularly punctual—but, that being said, she absolutely loathed being late for things.

"Just a minute! I think I might have found something!" Namine shouted back, walking further and further away, deeper and deeper into the junk heap that stood next door to the Heart residence.

Namine liked to think of herself as an upcoming artist, which she most certainly was, and, as such, she like to look for new, unique things to draw. Living next door to a junk yard, she had plenty of opportunities to find ordinary things that weren't quite so ordinary anymore. Evidently, most people would hate to scrounge through other people's trash in order to find something that they weren't even going to keep, but Namine couldn't understand why. Nearly every day, she put on old, ratty clothes and dug though the junk piles, armed with only a pair of heavy-duty leather gloves and an old camera.

This kind of thing was what she lived for.

Who cared about growing up to be some pretty girl that got married and had perfect children? Who cared about growing up to become some soccer mom whose husband cheated on her? Who cared about graduating from some Ivy League college and raising a family? Really, who cared about any of that?

She didn't.

Society be damned, that just wasn't who she was.

"Come on! Mom's gonna be so mad if we're late for Daddy's speech!" Kairi called from the house; Namine easily ignored her, her eyes caught by an old meat freezer that was tucked into the corner of the lot. She'd never seen it before, which was beyond strange. She spent so much time at the junk heap that she knew what everything looked like, but this...maybe it was new.

Slowly, she made her way over to it, snapping a quick picture before examining the objects squared shape. She could tell that it was old, rust littering the sides and covering the hinges and handles in such a way that made it look natural. It truly was a find. If she could get the light just right, it would look like a safe haven in mist of all the turmoil.

She smiled, a smile that showed of her tiny teeth and brightened her eyes. Now, all she needed to do was see the inside and she could get to work.

"Naimine, this is the _last _time I going to call for you, understand? I will leave you here!" Feminine arms crossed angry, as a full-on pout settled across Kairi's carefully prepared lips. "Are you even _listening _to m—"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

**K3YBLAD3**

"She isn't talking."

"Do you blame her?"

Ocean blue met acidic green in a somber stare. After the press conference that took place earlier in the day, the team had dropped everything in order to help in the search for Yuna. They all split up into teams and searched for hours, but, in the end, it was all for not. Two and a half hours ago the team had been called out to the Heart family residence by the older of two siblings. The girl had sounded like she was about to have a panic attack, stuttering to the officers that arrived on scene about her little sister Namine and how she should have gone with her and how it was all her fault. Leon had been practically useless in calming her down—his demeanor coming off as harsh and uncaring. Luckily, Riku and Sora had arrived only a few moments later, and were able to calm her down well enough to get a statement from her.

Now, if only they could get Namine to speak.

The poor little dear hadn't spoken a word since finding the body. By the time any of the team had shown up, she had completely locked down, her body stock still, her innocent blue eyes wide. Larxene, in a startling moment of humanity, had taken the girl aside and practically cooed over her, brushing her knotted hair back behind her ears and wiping the blood off of her scraped cheek. She told Leon that the girl was in shock; he was wasting his time trying to get any information out of her. If she ever managed to open up again, she probably wouldn't remember anything that could help them.

At the moment, the best thing for her was to just sleep…and hope she was able to forget.

"No." The redhead mumbled, leaning his forehead against the glass that separated them from the interrogation room. Namine was nothing but a defenseless victim; she hadn't done anything wrong. "You know I couldn't blame her if I tried."

"Yeah…I know." Demyx sighed, his shoulders hunched as he watched the girl's eyes focus in and out as Larxene fussed over her, smiling in a way that one could nearly consider kind. Maybe she just had a soft spot for traumatized girls. "It's just that…I don't know. I just want this to end."

"Me too, Dem. Me too."

Slowly, the door opened, creaking on its hinges; neither of the two felt the need to turn around and see who it was. It's not like it really mattered; they still had nothing. They had nothing that could catch this man. The man who killed the old and the young, who traumatized those he left behind.

He was nothing but a monster. One moment he was there, snatching young girls off street corners, and the next he was breaking into homes to prey on the elderly. He disappeared and reappeared at will. He was like a wisp in the wind. And, how were they, ordinary humans, supposed to catch smoke?

"Demyx…Leon wants you to speak with Rikku and Paine, letting them in on the details and such." Zexion whispered from the doorway, his voice even, even though he felt like he was interrupting something. The blond just nodded at him, tilting his head in a silent good-bye to Axel and following the younger male out into the beige hallway.

The two didn't say anything for a while as they walked side by side, Zexion's strides growing steadily longer as he attempted to keep up with the taller male. Demyx's head was all muddled, mixed up between what was right and what was wrong. He'd met Megara before he'd seen her on that chilled steel slab, and he'd met Yuna before he saw her wheeled in covered with that sleek, black body bag. He'd even met Namine once before, the girl just so shy and timid as her sister provided Demyx with anything he wanted to know. And, now, the poor dear was practically dead inside, unresponsive and uncaring.

He wanted to kill this man, whoever he may be.

He had never wanted to really hurt anyone in his entire life; he was kind, _forgiving_. He knew it was wrong for him to want such a thing. He also knew it was wrong to wish for it every time someone else died, every time the crime scene photos were spread in front of him. But, even though he knew with all his heart that it was wrong of him to want for someone else to get hurt, no matter what they may have done in the present or in the past, it didn't change the fact that he wanted this man to die.

"You can talk to me, if you want to." Zexion mumbled from beside him, stopping in his tracks with his arms hung limply by his side, his voice unsure and barely audible.

Demyx just smiled a sad smile, coming to stand in front of the younger. "Don't worry about it; I'm fine."

The smaller of the two growled lowly, glaring with one eye at the blond. "You're a hypocrite, Demyx." He ground out, though his voice lacked its normal venom.

"I'm _not _a hypocrite." The blond retorted, not really seeming to care one way or the other.

"Yes, you are. You pester me and pester me about not caring, and about not telling you what's bothering me, and here you are doing the exact same thing. That is the very definition of hypocrisy."

The blond sighed, leaning against one of the hallway's bland walls. In a way, Zexion was absolutely right, just like he was with everything else. Demyx was doing the exact opposite of what he expected other people to do, what he _wanted _other people to do. But this wasn't like that. This was…Demyx. He wasn't the type to push his problems onto others. He was the type of person who took everyone's problems onto himself. "This is different." He managed after a while, unable to meet the younger's chilling, blue eye.

Zexion scoffed. "Different? Different as in this is about you now and not someone else?" The blond had to resist the urge to wince, knowing that Zexion had proverbially hit the nail on the head. "You listen to everyone else's problems and treat your own like they don't even exist."

"So what? What's so wrong with that?" Demyx managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not hurting anyone."

Zexion sighed, shaking his head, resisting the temptation to tell him that he was wrong, that he was hurting someone: himself. Instead, he just walked right by him, listening for the tall-tale signs of Demyx's footsteps following along behind him. He wasn't supposed to care about the blond; he wasn't supposed to bother with the things that troubled him or those that made him sad, or even those that made him happy. All he needed to worry about was himself, about his pending freedom. Everything else was just a waste of space. But, even so, he couldn't help getting a little attached to the decidedly odd individual.

Of course, he was certain that's all it was: nothing but a slight attachment.

Nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

**A/N: And we now have an hoenst to goodness plot. About time, isn't it?**

**Anyway, since this story has now surpassed its one-year aniversary, I'm going to start attempting to get the chapters out a lot quicker. Hopefully, I will have this entire story completely by around May or June of next year. I have already made a set schedule for November and December, so two chapters should be uploaded monthly, give or take a few days. **

**Quiz: None for the chapter. However, I would like to know what your opinion is the changing personalities of Zexion and Demyx. Also, I want to know what you like and dislike about the story so far. Any thoughts? **

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. Isn't math grand?**


	9. Phantom Debugger

**And, it is done! ^-^**

**This chapter is a bit shorter than the last two, but I think it gets it's point across well enough. There's also- *gasp*- relationship movement! (If you squint...). **

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter, writesinthunder. **

**Hope you enjoy! ^-^**

* * *

It was like watching a glass shatter against hardwood floors. It was abrupt. It was callous. And it was loud. The only difference was that it was not a glass; it was someone's entire world shattering, breaking down around them, making way for the cascade of tears and the bitter truth that the death was random, that it didn't really have to happen at all. It was not like the breaking of a glass because it was emotionally painful. It was not like the breaking of a glass because it couldn't just be thrown away and forgotten. It was not like the breaking of a glass because it was a real human being on the other side of the mirror, crying their eyes out and beating their fists against the steel tabletop.

And it hurt.

It really hurt.

Zexion had never been a compassionate human being; he had never really cared about anything that didn't directly pertain to him. Was that selfish? No, it was simply his way of coping with the world around him. Did watching this girl he had only just met cave into herself and cry, cry, _cry _destroy him on the inside? _Yes_. Watching her bury her face in her hands and sob literally destroyed him.

He didn't want to watch anymore.

Freedom be damned, he really didn't want to watch anymore.

"You okay there, buddy?" The male in question nodded, eyes blank as he leaned against the mirror separating him from the interrogation room where Demyx was busily trying to comfort the poor girl, a look of pure guilt in his eyes. After he had led Demyx to the interrogation room where Rikku and Paine were already waiting, Zexion had come in here to watch from a safe distance. If he were being completely honest with himself, he would say that he had never been so thankful for being restricted from interacting with the family and friends of the victims. Since he wasn't, he was just glad that he wasn't in the same room as Rikku, because he had never been good with dealing with tears. "You sure about that? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine, Axel." Zexion breathed, his warm breath fogging up the glass, creating a perfect little 'O'. Sighing with his shoulders slump, he turned towards the redhead detective, watching with hawk-like eyes as the man scrutinized his every movement. It was different than it was with Leon. When Leon looked at him, it made his skin crawl, because deep down he knew that the man was just waiting for him to slip up, just waiting for an excuse to send him back to prison. With Axel, it was different. The two of them weren't on the friendliest of terms by any means, but they weren't enemies. And, when Axel looked at him with those too-green eyes, it made him think that the man was concerned for him, like he actually sort of cared, even if it was just for Demyx's sake. "Why would you think otherwise?"

Axel snorted, rolling his eyes before scribbling some notes down on his more and more present clipboard. "I don't know. Your face is pale, your eyes are shallow, and you look like you're about to break those fingers of yours." The younger of the two quickly dislodged his fingers from one another, ceasing his constant knotting, slightly embarrassed at being caught. "What? Did you think I wouldn't notice? I'm a detective, Zexion, and you do that all day long. How effective would I be if I didn't even realize something as simple as that?" He asked cockily, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard at the slightly reddened cheeks of the criminal. In all honestly, he hadn't even really realized that he was doing it again; it had become a bit of a habit since he'd left Hollow Bastion.

"You wouldn't be." Zexion answered simply. Axel laughed that deep, throaty laugh of his, standing and stretching his long lanky legs as he walked up to the smaller of the two. The criminal literally flinched, his deep blue eyes widening as Axel ruffled his hair, causing it to skew about, revealing both of his eyes for just one fleeting moment.

"You know, I'm really starting to like you kid." And, then he was gone, his retreating footsteps echoing hollowly off the walls.

And, Zexion really didn't understand people.

**K3YBLAD3**

"You know, I think you should eat more." Demyx informed him dully, taking a hearty bite of his leftover take-out. Zexion grimaced at his food, scrunching his nose up in a way that was not unlike a small child shunning their vegetables.

"I don't see why you should care." He said emotionlessly, more playing with his food than eating it. Of course, it wasn't completely his fault that he was like this. He'd grown up in an upper class family eating five-star meals that were prepared and served in a near meticulous manner. Even while in prison, his meals were prepared and served at set times and, while they were far from amazing, they were always prepared correctly. This was different; he'd never had to eat leftovers before. Who knew the taste of grease could actually get worse as the days passed?

Demyx rolled his eyes. "Why shouldn't I care?" He retorted, watching the criminal through his concerned oceanic eyes. "You're a part of the team now, you know? You need to keep your strength up. Besides, you're skinny as it is."

"Just because I'm a _temporary _member of your detective team does not mean that it's your job to take care of me; I can do that myself." Zexion smirked, an idea sparking in his head as he leaned across the table so he was less than half a foot away from the blond. "Moreover, I don't think you should be worried about anyone else until you learn how to take care of yourself."

Dirty blond eyebrows furrowed, causing those blue eyes of his to narrow in just the slightest way. "And just what is that supposed to mean? I can take care of myself just fine."

Zexion scoffed, resting his head against the palm of his hand. "Of course. If turning yourself into a hypocrite is your primary goal, then you're doing rather well in my opinion."

"Don't start that again; I told you, it's different with me." He sighed, watching as the criminal's one visible eye darkened in a way that made him feel like a bug that was waiting to be squashed.

"Oh, yes. I realize that to you it's completely different, but _logically _it's exactly the same. Wouldn't you agree?"

"_No_. I wouldn't."

Zexion sighed, rubbing at his temples with his one free hand before using it to stir his rapidly cooling leftovers. Demyx was…thickheaded. Extremely thickheaded. "Yes, it is, Demyx. Yes it is. Before you answer, think about it. You listen to everything that everyone else has to say. You listen to their problems; you fix their problems. It's just what you do. Then, when you have a problem, you completely ignore it. And don't say you don't, because you've already proven that you do and it would just make you even more of a hypocrite than you already are."

Demyx's lips compressed into a thin line as he watched Zexion languidly bring a forkful of greasy noodles to his mouth, sliding them in and chewing with growing distaste. In a way, even Demyx had to admit that he was right. Completely and utterly right, really. It was just that he liked helping people. It kept him moving; it gave him a purpose in life. If he didn't have anyone left in the world to help, than he wouldn't have anything left to live for. His problems were trivial in comparison to those of the people he met every day. Why should he worry about them if there was someone out there who was hurting a lot more than he was? He shouldn't.

At least, he didn't think that he should.

Sighing, the blond leaned back in his chair, two legs balancing him and keeping him from falling. "Maybe you're right." He mumbled almost inaudibly as he stared at the ceiling, and Zexion couldn't have been more pleased. Suddenly, the chair came back down with a crash, a leer set firmly on Demyx's lips as he leaned over the table towards the younger. "I've been wondering though, does all this pestering mean that you actually _want _to hear my problems? That seems unlike you."

Zexion's cheeks reddened and he idly wondered why he hadn't thought of this before. Why would he care? Why did it matter to him if Demyx was running about and wearing himself down for the sake of others? Why did that bother him as much as it did? "Don't—don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, and why is it then?" Demyx asked, his filled with false sweetness, that leer still set in place, seeming oddly correct stretching his lips in such a way

Biting at his lips and knotting his fingers together on the table in an almost vicious manner, he rushed to come up with a plausible excuse for his unexplainable behavior, struggling to keep his voice steady with his cheeks blazing in a way that he had never felt before. "If your mind is elsewhere, it'll be difficult for you to focus on the case, which, in turn, could lead to me being sent back to prison; I think I have a right to be a bit concerned."

Demyx laughed at that, leaning closer so that the two of them were nearly nose to nose. "You don't mean that, do you?" He breathed, the moistened air sliding over the smaller's rosy cheeks.

Zexion quickly decided that he rather disliked this side of the blond.

"I—I mean… what I said was—" Zexion attempted to justify, ending up a stuttering mess as Demyx migrated back to his side of the table, a genuine smile on his lips as he raised his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry." He laughed, blue eyes alight. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to; I just couldn't resist."

And, he was back. He was exactly the same as he always was: happy, caring, and considerate. It was the strangest thing, watching a person change from one personality to the other in less than a second and then revert back to the original like it was all just some game. In all honesty, he was a bit shell-shocked by it all.

"Uh, Zexion?" Demyx asked, concerned and looking much like a kicked puppy. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I mean, I guess I could have stopped myself I had really wanted to, but…" His voice trailed off as he took a deep breath, watching Zexion from across the table, his visible eye wide as if he was still processing what had just happened. "So…do you want to know what's been bothering me?" The blond questioned, attempting to get a response out of the criminal.

He blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it before nodding. "I would like that." He said in a voice that was barely audible, pulling his knees up to his chin and hugging them to his chest in a way that was much like a frightened child. It was like he really didn't know who he was dealing with anymore, like Demyx had stepped over some nonexistent line that separated the two of them and there was no turning back.

"Okay." The blond rested his elbows on the table and knitted his fingers together in front of him. It took him less than a second to realize that Zexion was watching those fingers, his eyes calculating. "It's nothing; really, it isn't. It's just the case, you know?"

Zexion shook his head, his fringe slapping at his pale cheeks. "No, I don't know. The case is rough on everyone, but it's really bothering you. Specifically, I don't think it's the case; I think it's the people involved in the case."

Demyx smiled lightly, his eyebrows rising in a way that would have been amused if it wasn't for the dark humor behind his thoughts. "I always knew you were a smart one." He mumbled mostly to himself before continuing. "Yeah, it's the people. You know that girl at the station today, Namine?" Zexion nodded. "Yeah, well, I've met her before. I met her and her sister on my first day here; they were part of the first group that I interviewed in order to gather information about the first killing of the police chief. She didn't talk very much. Honestly, she gave off the vibe that she was kind of shy and let her sister do most of the talking. And, I mean, she didn't say much— hardly anything at all, really—but she seemed like a good kid. Well adjusted, sweet, pretty…all those adjectives that make you like a person, and…I guess I just don't like seeing people like her go through stuff like this.

"She's just a kid. Kids…kids shouldn't have to go through this kind of thing, you know?" The blond sighed, rubbing at his face like a hopeless man in order to relieve some of the unnatural strain.

"They shouldn't." Zexion mumbled, staring down at the table somberly, thinking about everything he'd ever done wrong, about everything he wished he hadn't done. He was just a kid back then. Just some stupid, gullible kid that thought they had found someone who would care for them. Where was his childhood? Where was his life before all of this? Nowhere. Meaningless.

His life was nothing.

"And, then, those others—Rikku, Paine, and Yuna—what happened to them was my fault. They'd just taken a wrong turn, and, if it wasn't for me, they probably would have left town once I'd given them directions. They would have gone back to Traverse Town and found somewhere to sleep there. But, no, I told them that to stay safe they should find somewhere to stay for the night. How stupid was that?" Demyx asked rhetorically, pushing his oddly styled hair out of his eyes, those blue orbs of his desperate. "I knew there was a killer on the loose! Why on earth did I tell them to stay?"

Zexion sighed, unwinding one arm from around his legs and tapping his index finger lightly on the tabletop, attracting Demyx's attention. "So, you're saying that Yuna's death was your fault, correct?" He asked, watching the blond's shoulders slump as he nodded. Zexion shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes, it does. _I _told them to stay. _I'm _the reason they didn't leave town. It was _my _fault."

"Fine, then. If that's the way it is, then maybe we should go have a talk with Leon."

Hesitantly, Demyx watched Zexion unfurl and stand, walking towards the door and shrugging on his jacket. "Where are you going?"

"To speak with Auron, of course. I may be a convicted killer, but you're the one who killed that girl, right? You're the one who cut her fingers up and left her in the freezer, right?" Zexion alleged, his hand resting on the doorknob. "Auron might as well come and arrest you if that's the case."

"Wait a minute! That's not what I meant!" The blond stood his palms flat against the table, his eyes wide. "I killed her figuratively, not literally!"

"Oh?" Zexion smirked, leaning his back against the door and knotting his hands behind his back as he faced the blond, one cobalt eye gleaming innocently. "But, that's what you said, isn't it? You said it was your fault."

"Well, yes, I did say that. But, I'm not the one who actually hurt her!"

"So, you admit that you didn't actually hurt the girl, correct?" Hesitantly, the blond nodded, feeling very much like he was walking into a trap. "Oh, so now you're saying that you simply _suggested_ that those girls find somewhere to stay for the night, as a just-in-case?"

"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm saying." And, even Demyx knew when he'd been caught in the spider web of logical thinking that Zexion so enjoyed.

"You do realize that those girls could have easily not heeded your warning and left, correct? That they could have left right then and that girl wouldn't have died? And, realizing this, you must also realize that those girls could have chosen a different street to walk down, that they could have possibly walked closer together down that very same street and nothing would have happened?"

Demyx sighed, sitting back down heavily with sad oceanic eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Trust me, I get it."

The criminal smiled, sliding his coat off his skinny arms and making his way back over to the table where the junior detective sat so dejectedly. "So, as you can see, there are too many variables for you to conclude that those girls stayed here solely because of you. You didn't literally hurt that girl—"

"Yuna." Demyx corrected, causing the younger of the two to smile inwardly at the blond's undoubtedly caring behavior.

"You didn't literally hurt Yuna, therefore you cannot be blamed for the girl's death; it's as simple as that." Zexion stated, taking back his previous seat across from the blond.

The two stayed completely silent for a while, Demyx staring down at the table and Zexion twirling his now cold meal around his fork in a way that said that he wouldn't be eating another bite any time soon. Since it had become apparent that neither of them were willing to speak, Zexion stood, collecting their paper plates and throwing them away before he made his way to close the curtains to the window that overlooked Twilight Town. Just as he was about to reach for the plush fabric, Demyx grabbed his arm, his grip light but demanding; Zexion had to resist the urge to flinch and pull away.

"Yes, Demyx?"

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice seeming to vibrate against Zexion's pale skin. And, then…then the pressure on his arm was gone and Demyx was crawling into bed, his hair hiding his face from view.

Zexion had never felt so empty in his life.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Who are you?" It was a simple question; one asked with a steady voice that held no regrets. He knew what was happening. He had no doubt as to what would become of his life in just a few fleeting moments. But, that being said, after every good thing he had done for the world over the years, he thought that he at least deserved to know the name of the man who was going to kill him.

The man above him smiled, clicking his tongue in the same manner one would use while disciplining a small child. "Now, now, why should I tell you such a thing? It's not like that information could help you, you know. I'm still going to kill you, whether I want to or not."

Graying eyes sparked at this, the gears turning faithfully behind those eyes as everything the man was saying began to fall in to place. "You don't want to kill me, do you?" At this the man shook his head, continuing to run wires from one outlet in the room to the computer that he was sitting in front of. "If you don't want to kill me, then why are you doing it?" He asked, not a trace of malice in his voice. It was like this last little piece of information would tie everything together in his mind and allow him to rest in peace.

"You control the darkness." The serial killer said simply as he finally finished creating his rig and pushed his victim towards it. "And the darkness isn't good." He continued as an afterthought, as if trying to make sure that he really understood what he was doing, since his last victim did not.

"I see." The soon-to-be deceased smiled, letting his eyes slide closed as he was stopped directly in front of the computer, entirely content with this turn of events.

"Type." The order was whispered into his ear and, even though he knew what was about to happen, he saw no way out of it. He was just thankful that he would be destroyed by the very thing that paved his entire life.

So, he tapped the keys and let whatever was going to happen happen.

**K3YBLAD3**

"No…"

It was just one little word and, though it was whispered in a voice that was barely audible, it screamed to be heard. It screamed of despair. It screamed of pain. It screamed of suffering.

And no one could stop it.

Shaking, Roxas stepped forward, extending his arm as if he was going to help the man who they all knew was beyond helping. In the corner of the room, seated in front of the company computer, sat Tron, Roxas' mentor and friend, burnt and fried to a proverbial crisp. He was the picture of death, a singed sort of smell permeating the atmosphere and bringing Roxas to his knees.

He couldn't stand this. The man who had taken him under his wing with no persuading, the man who had laughed with him and shared stories as well as advice was dead. Absolutely dead. There was no bringing him back. He would never smile again. He would never laugh again. He would never scold him with that loving twinkle in his old eyes again. He would never do anything ever again.

So, he cried. Roxas hid his face in his hands and sobbed, right there for everyone to see. His sobs weren't loud and overly dramatic. No, his sobs were silent and subdued, paying a remorseful tribute to his former co-worker.

Above him, farther away from the body, the rest of the team stood, huddled as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. Roxas looked heartbroken and damaged, all curled on the floor, crying his eyes out like a young child, and the team could do nothing but watch. Silently, Larxene and Riku moved away from the group and towards the body of their former computer specialist.

"This entire room is now a crime scene." Leon managed after a long, long time, his eyes saddened. He had known Tron since the very beginning of his career and now the man was gone. Completely gone. "Don't touch anything without gloves on. I want Tron out of here as soon as possible. Get me anything you can: pictures, writing, thoughts, _anything_. If you so much as _think _that something is out of place, you let me know about it, understand?" Then, without further prompting, the majority of the team dispersed. Sora passed out the gloves and grabbed the camera and they commenced the ever-present search for evidence. Drawers were opened, pictures were taken, and Tron's body was slowly hoisted out of the room and sent down to the morgue. After a time, Axel managed to coax the honey blond out of the room and lead him into the hallway, where he allowed the boy to cry into his chest until he couldn't cry anymore.

And then there was nothing but the heart wrenching sobs from the hallway to lull the team into action.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm here to investigate a string of murders that have recently been committed in Twilight Town." Demyx recited almost electronically, holding up his badge for the old man in the doorway to see. The man's wrinkled blue eyes widened and he quickly stepped aside, allowing Zexion and Demyx entry into his spacious home.

"Right this way, then." He gestured to a room on the adjacent to the foyer and led them inside, taking a seat in one of the plush leather couches while gesturing for them to do the same. Once he was sure that the two young men were situated, as was polite, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Murders you say?"

The dirty blond nodded, fidgeting in his seat. He wasn't at all comfortable in a home built like a fortress with furniture that probably cost more than his entire measly apartment. In reality, he would much rather be back at the station analyzing the crime scene with the rest of the team. That, however, was impossible because Leon had given him direct orders to take Zexion and interview Ansem Wise, the author of the books that started this whole mess. And, no matter how much he wished to be somewhere else, he wouldn't defy a direct order; it just wasn't the way he was. "Yes, sir. So far, a total of nine people have been killed."

Ansem gasped, leaning back in his chair as if he was appalled, his house coat billowing around his age-worn wrists. "Nine people have been killed? I had no idea." The man fell silent, thinking it over. Nine people? How on earth had anyone managed to kill nine people without getting caught?

"Mr. Wise," Zexion cleared his throat, leaning forward with his back straight, his childhood manners quickly coming back to him, "we would like to know where you've been for the past nine days."

He sighed, pushing his white-blond hair out of his face. "I haven't been home for the past two weeks—I was on tour, you know. Book signings and whatnot." He replied without missing a beat. "Would you mind my asking what any of this has to do with me?"

"Of course not, sir." Zexion smiled a falsely sweet smile; one he'd learned from his mother before he'd even learned how to talk. "You see, this killer that we're looking for has been imprinting words into his victim's skin with a knife of some sort. And, coincidentally, each of these words corresponds to your popular book series _Kingdom Hearts_. So, as you can probably see due to the body count, we are in dire need of information." As if to accentuate the criminal's words, Demyx nodded.

"Ah. I see." Ansem mumbled, resting his chin on his palm. He couldn't believe it; someone was really going around town and killing people off and carving things into them? Carving things from his books no less? "I'll have my agent send over my travel records for the past two weeks. Would that suffice?"

"Of course. We'd really appreciate it." Demyx smiled uncomfortably.

"Good, good, good." Ansem clapped his hands, standing and headed towards the door. "Do you boy's need anything? A cup of water, some tea perhaps?" The two shook their heads in unison. "All right, then. If you'll give me just a moment, I'll answer any questions, but, for the time being, I am in need of a peppermint." And with that he was gone, that house robe of his billowing as he turned the corner, leaving Zexion and Demyx alone in the room.

"He's a bit odd, don't you think?" Zexion asked after a time, tilting his head to the side as he examined the walls around them. They were in a study of some kind that was certain. Books lined the back wall, many of which written by the owner of the house, while a large desk sat with its back facing a window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, letting in a fair amount of light since the ruby red curtains were pulled open, revealing a spacious side yard. He and Demyx were seated in identical leather chairs that sat near the corner, in a space obviously designated for conversing—Ansem had probably had it set up in order to discuss book ideas with his publisher, but one could never be entirely sure. On the wall directly to Zexion's, a painting of three odd looking characters was hung on the wall. Beside Demyx there was another painting of three different characters, though they looked oddly like the ones in the other painting—the criminal assumed that they were each of characters from Ansem's books. All in all, Zexion felt abnormally at home in this place, even though he'd never stepped foot there in his life; the place simply reminded him of his home in Radiant Garden.

Demyx shrugged. "Everyone's odd, I guess."

And, for some reason, Zexion couldn't help but laugh at that, smiling as he stared up at the ceiling. "Is that just another way of calling me weird?" He asked lightly, the words surprising even himself.

"No!" The blond's face painted itself a dusted sort of red. "That's not what I meant. I was just saying that everyone's different, so who am I to judge who is and who isn't normal and abnormal?"

"Relax, Demyx, I didn't mean anything by that." Zexion mumbled, putting his hands in his lap so he could twist his fingers around one another. "Is this case really that bad?" He added after a few moments had passed, in which it was apparent that the blond wouldn't be saying anything else.

"What do you mean?"

"Tron's death is really bothering you; I can tell. This morning, you seemed a bit depressed, but after we found Tron you've hardly wanted to say anything at all. People die in the line of duty all the time, be them officers, detectives, or technical specialists. This is a dangerous job, and I'm sure that Tron realized that when he signed on as a member of Leon's team. In some way or another, I'm sure he knew that this job was going to eventually kill him, though I doubt he knew that he was going to be electrocuted. And, despite what I may have said previously, I don't take you for an idiot. You may be a simpleton, but an idiot seems like it may be a bit of a stretch. So, all this being said, I'll ask again, 'is this case really that bad?'"

Demyx shrugged, sinking into his seat as if to escape the criminal's trained eyes but still watching the male discreetly. Zexion was changing; even his 'simpleton' mind could see that. In the beginning, Zexion had been closed off towards everyone, his body nothing but skin and bones. He had been nothing but cold and distant; nearly everything he said directly pertained to the case and small talk was out of the question. In short, the guy just hadn't cared about anything other than the case, his goal of freedom being the only thing that he could think about. Now it was like he was looking at an entirely different person.

Not only had he changed physically, but he seemed to change mentally too. He no longer looked like an escaped hospital patient because he now looked like he was actually eating and sleeping regularly, even though his eyes still held shadows and his bones still stuck out at odd angles depending on how he moved. And now, now he would actually talk to him. He didn't talk with Leon or Sora or Riku or even his self-proclaimed number one fan Roxas. At least, he didn't really talk to them. No, instead he chose to talk to Demyx, despite their obvious personality differences and the fact that Zexion probably hated him in the beginning. And he'd said those awful things to him just because he was angry. To Demyx, it was a wonder that Zexion was willing to have anything to do with him at all, yet here he was, seated less than a yard away, unmistakably concerned. _Concerned _for _him_.

"You know, Zexion, maybe the case isn't all that bad." Zexion raised one elegant eyebrow, his head quirking to the side. Demyx just shook his head, smiling and finally relaxing. The case was bad; he knew that. He knew that people were already dead and, if they didn't stop him, he would kill even more, but, even so, he couldn't hate the case. Why? Because, how could he hate the case if it was what was changing the younger?

Besides, he rather liked the change.

* * *

**A/N: ****See, lookie! Relationship movement! Thank the heavens, it finally happened~**

**Anyway, the next chapter for this story has already been completed, and will be posted later on this month (probably after Thanksgiving). I'm actually hoping to have the next chapter completed and sent to my beta before I post it, but I'm not sure if that's going to happen yet. It all depends. Either way, another chapter will be posted this month, so be on the look-out. ^-^**

**Quiz: In the next chapter, the character who dies was originally written about in a fairtytale rendition by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. Who are they? **

**Also, since there was a bit more relationship development between Zexion and Demyx in this chapter, I would like to know what you thought about the second scene in this chapter; the one where Demyx and Zexion are in their hotel room. Any thoughts on that?**

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters.**


	10. Rumbling Rose

**Oh dear, something must be wrong. It's actually on time~**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter, writesinthunder. **

**Hope you enjoy! ^-^**

* * *

"_The Superior_?" Demyx asked, clarifying as he wrote everything down on a small notebook he had tucked away in his back pocket while they were still back at the hotel room.

Ansem nodded gravely, shifting through a mountain of papers that had accumulated on his desk. "That's right. It was the oddest thing. I've received letters before, mind you—how could l not? —but these were just obsessive. The first one came in when I had published my first work, maybe a year or so ago. The letter was typed on old paper, like someone had used a typewriter. It just kept going on and on about how marvelous my characters were and how they really understood their quest for the light. To some degree, I was flattered, just as all novelists are when they receive such in depth letters, but something about it just seemed off to me. For one, the letter did not have a name; it was signed '_The Superior' _at the bottom. And, what seemed really off to me was that it did not have an address. The letter was hand delivered to my mailbox.

"That was not the only letter I received. Once the new book in the series came out, I had another letter, exactly like the first. The wording was a bit different, but the effect was the same. It was practically obsessive. I really didn't think much of it at the time, but it made my skin crawl the way '_The Superior_'—as they wished to be called—seemed to identify with the villains in the books."

"I see." The dirty blond mumbled, furiously writing away, his chicken scratch scrawl filling the page. "How many of these letters have been sent?"

Ansem cocked his head to the side, his fingers ceasing their constant shifting for just a moment before they started back up again. "I believe that there has been one for every book I've published so far. A total of five, I do believe."

Zexion shifted, his bangs hiding both of his darkening eyes from view. They were dealing with an obsessed fan that was certain. The way the murders were committed had to correspond with the book in some way, the keyblades probably linked them all together in a way that was almost seamless in the killer's mind. The killer probably thought that he was actually doing them all a favor; he probably thought that he was really a hero. But he wasn't. He wasn't a hero. If anything, the man was insane, consumed by his obsession with a fantasy series.

Slowly, the criminal cleared his throat, turning in his chair in such a way that allowed him to face both his temporary partner and the author. "Mr. Wise, if you could, do you remember when these letters came in?"

The two stopped, the oldest of the pair rubbing his chin thoughtfully for a fleeting moment. "I'm sorry, young man, but I can't say I remember any of the dates. It's been such a long time since the last one came in and an even longer time since the rest."

"I don't need any of the exact dates. I just need you to tell me when you received them in correlation to the dates the books went on sale." Zexion clarified, the gears turning behind his eyes.

Ansem stilled, taking a seat in the plush chair behind his desk in shock. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Why hadn't he realized that the letters were impossible? That they were always in his mailbox too early? How had he not realized that the letters were coming in on the wrong days? "The letters…every last one of them has come in on the day the books were released. They've all come in too early; no one could have possibly finished one of my books that fast."

Zexion nodded, leaning back in his chair so that his back was just barely touching the backrest. He'd been expecting that. The fan was obsessed, so it only stood to reason that they would be stealing the drafts of the book before it had been completed. In which case, they were reading the books beforehand and delivering the letters on the due dates for a specific reason. But what was it? Did they want the attention? Or did they want to be the first to send in fan mail? It made sense that the killer would want to be the first. That way, they could be the center of attention in Ansem's mind for far longer than any other fan; they would be the most important person.

"What about the first book?" Demyx asked, worrying his bottom lip in between his teeth, bloodying the insides. "Did the letter come in on the due date for the first book as well?" On the other side of the room, Zexion's brows furrowed. Demyx was right. The man they were looking for was obsessed with the book series; how would he have known about the first book in the series before it had been published and released?

"Yes. All of the letters have come in on the day the book was released." The man managed after a moment, running his fingertips along the edge of his desk subconsciously. He was a man of fantasy. He wrote books about the difference between light and dark; he wrote books about the heart and what it meant. Mystery was not his forte, as it seemed. So why was he so wrapped up in this? Why were he and his books causing this? He loved people of all kinds. He didn't have any children of his own nor did he have any family of his own, but he did whatever he could to make people smile. So, why? Why this? "What does this mean, detective?" He asked apprehensively, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Demyx sighed, running his hand through his oddly shaped hair, a deep set frown transforming his lips. "It means that we're not looking for someone who's obsessed with your books; we're looking for someone who's obsessed with _you_."

**K3YBLAD3**

Slender fingertips danced across the wooden table, stress evident in their movements. "Mr. Wise didn't know of anyone who was capable of killing anyone. He thinks we're mistaken." Zexion mumbled with his back straight as he stared at his plastic fork and cheap lunch. Salad…Demyx had laughed at him for ordering salad from a fast food restaurant, at how preposterous it was. That was fine, though. He had a bit of a thing against grease of any form, especially when it was dripping off of his French fries. It was revolting.

"No one thinks they know a murderer." Leon grumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Did he have anyone in mind at all, or did he not say anything at all?"

"Nothing." The criminal replied, picking up his fork only to drop a stray piece of lettuce into his mouth. "All he could tell us about that has any value was the letters. At this point, they're about all we have to go on in correlation to the murders; Mr. Wise said that he would have his agent fax them to us sometime today. I would do some background checks on Ansem's acquaintances over the past few years, though. We might be able to find someone of interest."

Leon nodded, a scowl firmly planted on his thinned lips. He hated this. He hated having to rely on a criminal for information. Demyx could tell him, he was sure. Demyx had gone to Ansem Wise's house just as Zexion had; it was just that Demyx wasn't hardened yet. He could relay information like a book, but when it came down to putting it to practice, he was still just a junior. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. Zexion was different. Though he was younger and lacked any training that Demyx had had, he knew about the harsh realities of the world; he understood them. And maybe Demyx knew and understood them as well, but Demyx had never been _a part_ of them. He was a good person and he tried really hard, but he just wasn't ready for a case like this one. At least, not yet. "Roxas, I suspect that you'll be able to take care of that?"

On the other side of the table, picking at his food disinterestedly, Roxas nodded, his blue eyes unfocused and unseeing. He didn't want to be there. Now that his mentor was gone for good, all he wanted to do was go home to his shabby apartment and sleep until he couldn't remember anything anymore. "Yeah…I'll have it done in a couple of hours and waiting on your desk."

"Good. Has anyone else found anything?"

"Not really." Axel sighed, leaning his face lazily against his palm. "Sora and Riku are still busy trying to find anyone that would have access to the junk yard next door to the Heart residence and Larxene is still busy trying to examine Tron's body. All she knows so far is that Tron didn't really fight back all that much; he's practically void of defensive wounds, so he either was snuck up on or he went down without much of a fight."

Beside him, Roxas stiffened, his gaze trained on the table, even if he wasn't really seeing it. "He was snuck up on. Tron wouldn't have gone down without a fight; he wasn't ready to die yet." The blond was unwilling to admit that Tron would have let that man kill him. The Tron he knew would have taken charge if given the chance. There was no way that he would have allowed himself to be put to death, especially not in the way he was.

"We know that, Roxas. Axel was just stating the facts." Zexion soothed, his voice calm and softened. In uncharacteristic caring, he shot the techie a tiny, sympathetic smile. It wasn't because he felt bad for the blond, because he didn't. It was just that he had been in his position before and he knew what it was like. And if Roxas continued to remain so unfocused on the case, the case would be in jeopardy. Zexion couldn't let that happen. His entire life depended on this case, and he'd be damned if he'd let someone else's emotions get in the way.

"I know." The blond mumbled, eyes shifting to the smile on Zexion's porcelain face. Maybe he was being overly dramatic. Tron was someone he looked up to, but that didn't mean he should just sit around and sulk because the man was dead. The greatest revenge for his mentor would be to find the man who killed him.

Leon cleared his throat loudly, drawing the team's attention back to him. "Have we found anything linking the victims yet?"

"No." Demyx managed around his cheese hamburger, chewing in bliss before setting it down and swallowing. "As it stands right now, no one has any real connection other than the fact that they all live in the same small town."

"Which basically means that relying on the victims will be useless." Zexion added, swishing his fork around his salad without actually eating any of it. "However, I don't think that these people were really picked at random. The killer probably has a relationship with all of them, which explains why he's been able to get close to all of them without arousing suspicion. Excluding those he snuck up on, of course, such as Yuna and Tron. The two of them probably brought his attention away from his original targets."

"So, technically, you're saying that all we have to do is find out what drives him to choose certain people in order to find him?" Axel asked, receiving a nod in return. He scoffed, fingering his fire truck red hair with his too long fingers. "That's just great. All we have to do is think like we're flippin' nuts and we've got this case as good as solved."

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere, Axel." Leon reprimanded. The man just smirked, rolling his eyes like an uncaring adolescent. "Roxas, I want you and Axel to do as much backgrounding as you can on our victims and Ansem. Once you're done with that, I want you to figure out as much as you can about those books. Anything will be useful, so I suggest you buy a copy. That goes for the two of you as well." The brunette grumbled, staring pointedly at Zexion and Demyx. "I expect to have information on my desk first thing in the morning, pertaining to both the book and the backgrounds. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, we got it." Axel butted-in, standing up in order to stretch his long, long legs. "I guess me and Roxy are pulling an all-nighter, huh?"

"If that's what it takes."

"What about us?" Demyx asked, his brows furrowed indicating him and Zexion. His boss just shrugged, pushing back his chair and checking his cellphone disinterestedly.

"Read the book. Otherwise, get some sleep; I'll need you here bright and early in the morning." And with that he was gone, cellphone held pointedly to his ear as he left.

"So, I guess we're free to go?" Demyx mumbled, standing to throw his trash away.

As he and Zexion left, he could have sworn he heard Axel whisper "_Lucky_" at his back.

**K3YBLAD3**

He had beautiful skin. Really, he did. His skin was pale like a porcelain china doll, completely and utterly flawless, accenting his sharp angles and jutting features. Demyx had never really noticed it before, but the criminal was truly an attractive male. His cheekbones were set high, emphasizing his cobalt orbs that were always partially hidden by his slate fringe. Years of isolation and meager meals had given him a slightly unhealthy air, but ever since Zexion had become a temporary part of the team not so long ago, he had slowly but surely gained a bit of weight. Of course, it wasn't really a noticeable amount of weight for one who wasn't really looking, but Demyx…he had been looking.

Over the past eight days, the blond had watched the other male like a hawk.

They slept in the same room. They ate when the other ate. Leon typically sent them out together. And Demyx just couldn't seem to get enough of him. Zexion was like a puzzle to him, and, though he had never been particularly fond of puzzles, this one had peaked his interest. In short, Zexion intrigued him. In the beginning, he thought that he was misunderstood, that it was job to help him. But then, after meeting him, he quickly realized that Zexion was just as much of a heartless bastard that the news had portrayed him as. He didn't care. He didn't care about the victims or the blood; not even the bodies seemed to faze him.

And now, he was just so different. He was changing right before his very eyes.

Maybe the others didn't really notice it or maybe he was just crazy, but…Zexion seemed to be growing up, growing up into a beautiful person. He was idealistic and he knew it, but he really thought that the criminal was finally beginning to understand why the case was affecting everyone in the way it was. He was actually learning what it was like to care. He was willing to joke with him and comfort him, and sometimes Demyx thought that maybe Zexion was starting to care about the victims too. Maybe not as much as he should, but Demyx was beginning to see it…that had to count for something, right?

He hoped it did. Because, even though he knew it was wrong of him, he didn't care what the younger had done. He wanted to have him. He wanted to have him to touch and to hold at will without any boundaries. He just wanted to know him, the real Zexion. He wanted to know what the other thought about, what made him tick. He wanted to know what allowed him to compartmentalize everything, what allowed him to just ignore his parents obvious neglecting of him.

He wanted to know Zexion—_all _of him.

He wanted to know the good and the bad. He wanted to know what made him sad, what made him cry and make it all better in the end. He wanted to be able to look at the other and say '_I understand_' and truly understand. He wanted—

"Is there a particular reason that you've been staring at me for the past forty-two minutes?" The blond in question jerked from his musing, rubbing at his neck with a sheepish smile as one narrowed blue eye scrutinized him. "I'll take that as a no. In that case, have you bothered to actually read any of Ansem's book?"

Demyx shrugged, somehow managing to scrap his shoulder blade against one of the loose screws in the wall. Currently, he and Zexion were in their hotel room attempting to read through all of Ansem's first book in an effort to better understand their killer's motives, one stretched out on his bed while the other was sitting stiff-backed on one of the hotel's chairs typically used in the breakfast nook, respectively. They had been in the same place since they returned from the bookstore three hours before, each holding a brand new paperback copy of _Kingdom Hearts_, and frankly, Demyx couldn't stand it anymore. He'd made it a grand total of sixty-nine pages before he gave up for the night, choosing instead to stare at the criminal across the room, who was busy reading, already much farther along than Demyx could even hope to be. "A little."

"A little is not quite good enough." Zexion hummed, his voice not really portraying any ill-intent. "I believe that Leon wanted us to have finished this book by the time we show up tomorrow, or have you forgotten that already?" Idly, the criminal flipped the page, his visible eye scanning the cascade of words like a professional.

"No, I haven't." The blond sighed, lying down on his stomach only to prop his head on his elbows in order to better watch his roommate. He was a bit of an oddity, all things considered. The man obviously harbored a severe dislike of Leon, just as Leon nurtured a similar feeling towards him, yet here he was, carrying out their boss's orders like a thoroughly wiped lackey. In all honesty, while purchasing the book, Demyx had expected Zexion to skim through the thing for roughly ten minutes before ignoring it in light of doing something better. For some reason, he seemed like that type to Demyx: the type that was extremely smart and could get by without putting a lot of effort into anything. Partially, he was relieved to find out that he was wrong.

"Then, do you think you could explain to me why you aren't reading? Or at least refrain from distracting me?" Zexion asked evenly, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes as the blond huffed and rolled over, now facing the opposite direction. He didn't think it was possible, but he was beginning to like Demyx. Maybe not as much as one would like their friend or pet dog, but Zexion was definitely starting to develop a certain fondness for him, not unlike the attachment he had to his pet fish when he was eight. He highly doubted that they would ever really have anything in common and the blond's ideals were far more idealistic than his own, as were his morals, but even so, he could…bare the other's company.

Shaking his head slightly to clear away any unwanted thoughts—he hardly had the time to deal with them at the moment, Zexion returned to the book, at least pretending to be thoroughly engrossed in the pages. In reality, it was a good book, though there was nothing mysterious about it. The characters were straightforward in their ways of thinking and it was painfully obvious who the villains of the story were before they even bothered to speak. It seemed like Ansem had the idea of simplicity in mind while writing it, making everything flow together in such a way that made the characters seem see-through. At least, that's how it seemed to the untrained eye. The book was actually very psychological. Kuri wasn't really evil like he was sometimes portrayed and the main character's need to have his friend back was actually more of a cover-up for his extremely jealousy towards his friend, who seemed to be everything that he wasn't. The missing hearts in the book were really just a metaphorical cover-up for human nature.

But what did that mean to the killer?

Obviously the man was intelligent, which means that he would have picked up on the hidden messages within the book. If it wasn't for that first letter being sent before the original book was released, it would have been easy to conclude that all the victims were committing some type of 'sin' in the killer's mind that related to the darker side of human nature. However, since the letter came out before the first book, it would only make sense that the killer would have some type of obsession with Ansem himself instead of his books. But that didn't really make sense either, since Ansem hadn't been targeted and the victims were all engraved with words directly from the book. And, since none of the victims seemed to have any relation, it seemed like the killer was picked his victims at random. Of course, that didn't make any sense either, considering the meticulous nature of the crimes.

It was all very headache inducing.

Sighing ever so slightly, Zexion leaned his head back, his chin held high so he could stare at the illuminated ceiling above him. His fringe slowly slid down his cheek, reveling both of this exhausted eyes. It wasn't that he was particularly tired, because he really wasn't. He'd gone days without sleep before, maybe even weeks; he couldn't honestly say that he remembered the exact duration of his sleep deprivation. But he'd never really been so mentally exhausted before. What was he supposed to do? Whoever this person was, he was smarted than he was. He couldn't find anything linking the victims, nor could he find any real meaning to the killer's actions. What would happen to him if he couldn't find him? His deal was only valid if he managed to _catch _this person, so what happened if he couldn't?

He wouldn't be able to survive being sent back.

He wouldn't be able to just sit there and watch the world go by.

He would lose what little bit of a mind that he had left, and he just couldn't let that happen.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" Zexion hummed, letting his head roll so that he was facing the blond, who had turned back to him, oceanic blue orbs wide and serious.

"You're supposed to be reading, Demyx." Though, Zexion would have been lying to himself if he said that he didn't think the idea seemed rather appealing at the moment.

The blond shrugged, standing up and stretching his tanned arms above his head. "So? We'd just be taking a little break; it's not like we're going to be gone all night long."

Zexion snorted, really rolling his eyes this time, not caring how childish the gesture seemed. "I think you've taken enough of a break for the two of us." The criminal sat up a little straighter, carefully marking his page before shutting his book with a resounding _ffoof_. "Besides, where would we go?"

"I don't know. We could just walk wherever the road takes us." Demyx smiled, blue eyes alight.

Zexion rested his chin on his palm, thinking it over. It was utterly juvenile, all things considered. They should stay here and finish the book. They needed to collect as much information as they could before the night was out, after all, in hopes of preventing more deaths. But, even so, Zexion couldn't bring himself to say no.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt to go out for a little while."

**K3YBLAD3**

"You know it's okay, right?" Axel mumbled, leaning his too-tall frame against Leon's desk since the man was nowhere around. The honey blond to his left stopped his back stiffening as his fingertips tapped the computer keys with a little bit more force than was necessary.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Roxas managed after a moment, the air between the two tensing with every passing second.

The redhead rolled his eyes. Really, did this guy take him for an idiot? He knew that Tron's death was bothering him, so why was he trying so hard to hide it when it was painfully obvious? "We both know damn well what I'm talking about, Rox."

"No we don't." Big blue eyes narrowed at him, arms crossing over the blond's chest angrily. "I happen to know that at least one of us has absolutely no idea what you're going on about."

"You're stubborn." The detective scoffed, kicking off from his perch to stand behind the younger. "We both know that I'm talking about Tron. It's okay to be sad about what happened to him, you know? No one thinks any less of you for it."

"Don't you think I already know that?" Roxas bit out through gritted teeth. He shouldn't be so angry; he knew that. But, even so, he couldn't help himself. Tron was gone. He knew that and he was beginning to except it, but that didn't mean that he wanted to talk about it. If anything, that was the _last _thing he wanted to do.

"I'm sure."

"Then why are you going on about it?"

"Because I felt like it." Axel answered cockily, leaning over the computer desk to face the blond from the side, a feral looking smile consuming most of his face, stretching his thin cheeks and offsetting his acidic green eyes.

"Asshole." Roxas mumbled, blue eyes glaring.

"So I've been told." If it was even possible, Axel's smile widened even more, showing off his sparkling white teeth and sharp canines. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't enjoying this. He'd always had a thing for blonds; he'd even had a bit of a thing for Demyx for a while, before figuring out that the blond was much better off just being his friend, since Axel had this nasty habit of spitting his toys back out once he was through. He just couldn't do that to Demyx and he wouldn't do it to Roxas either, but that didn't mean that he couldn't have a bit of fun.

"You know," Roxas growled with his voice low and tense, "I'm quickly beginning to hate you."

Axel laughed, backing off. "I had a feeling that we were going to be getting along swimmingly."

**K3YBLAD3**

He sighed, resting languidly against the cool brick wall. It was rather cold out tonight, but that wouldn't stop him. No, he had to rid the town of the darkness, even if its people didn't understand him. Even if they _couldn't _understand him.

That was fine.

They would see; they would all see.

Sooner or later, they would all see just what he was doing for them. Did they think he wanted to do this? Did they think that he wanted to kill the sheriff, the astronomer? Did they think that he wanted to kill that women or that magician? And his longtime friend? What about the physician or that girl that begged him not to hurt her? He hadn't wanted to kill that computer specialist from out of town, or any of the others. But he did, and he would continue killing until the darkness was gone.

Because the darkness would destroy everything in its path if no one stopped it.

The darkness would devour the homes and the people. And when it was all gone, they would come running to him. He would be their law, their god. They would all understand what he was doing, and why. They would understand it all.

Smirking to himself, he kicked off the wall, adjusting his black gloves so that they covered all of his bare skin before he continued on his way down the dimly lit street on the farthest side of Twilight Town. There was darkness here; he could feel it in his very bones. His feet clanked against the sidewalk as he moved, his gray coat billowing around behind him. Every few moments, his nasty eyes would narrow, his head whipping in one direction before coming back to the path ahead. He had to find the source, the source of the darkness along this street.

And then he saw her.

He knew her well, as did everyone in Twilight Town. She was a sweet girl. She ran charity events throughout town and often did volunteer work at the park or with the children. She was the kind of girl who allowed anyone into her home without the slightest thought to her own safety. And here she was, all pretty and prim, her coat held tightly to her chest as she made to cross the street ahead, tip-toeing down another road that lead closer to the center of Twilight Town.

He smiled, stopping short before turning back towards his car on the opposite end of the road. He knew where she was going; as an active member of the community, how could he not? After all, she went to the same place every Saturday night around this hour in order to carefully prepare for the festivities of tomorrow. And he would be ready. He would be ready for her, because she was the source. She was his target, and tonight would be the night.

Tonight would be the night that her darkness was destroyed.

**K3YBLAD3**

"It's pretty."

And indeed it was. Bathed in the moonlight, the old church glowed, it's stone arched illuminated in the darkness. The cobblestone path leading up to the chilled stone stairs was perfectly crafted, not a stone out of place, set at perfect intervals for the feet of both the young and the old. They reflected the moon's light, making the surrounding grass look almost silver. Beautiful, simply beautiful.

"Do you want to go inside?" Zexion asked, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right. The two had been walking for the past hour or so and he wasn't faring well due to years of living in a ten by ten cell. Of course, no matter how much his feet hurt, he had still enjoyed the walk. And, though he would never admit it openly, he sort of enjoyed the company as well.

Smiling, the blond nodded, childishly hopping across the first two cobblestones, nearly losing his balance and falling into the grass as he wind-milled his arms out on either side of him, laughing as he looked at the criminal's raised eyebrow over his shoulder, his face blank. "Haven't you ever played this game?" Demyx asked, turning around fully.

"What game? You look like an idiot." Demyx's jaw dropped as oceanic orbs widened.

"You've honestly never played?" Zexion shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest in a way that made him seem more like he was pouting than annoyed. "How have you lived? This game is like the _foundation_ of childhood!" Demyx gushed, hopping back so he was less than an inch away from the criminal's nose, a smile stretching his cheeks.

"What are you—hey!" Zexion squeaked as Demyx grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the stone, pulling him close so they were chest to chest, the younger's head ending at the blond's chin. "What do you think you're _doing_?" He hissed, making to push away, but to no avail; the junior detective just wouldn't let him go.

"Come on, play with me." And Zexion, knowing when to quit, begrudgingly agreed, nodding his head slowly while trying to put a little distance between them. At the smile that Demyx shot him—a smile just for him—he nearly thought that the closeness was worth it. "Okay, now, here's how you play," Demyx instructed, jumping backwards so that he was balanced on the next closest stone, "you have to hop from stone to stone without touching the grass. If you touch it at all or fall, you have to go all the way back to the sidewalk and start over until you reach the church. Simple, right?"

Zexion raised an eyebrow. "So, the person who reaches the church first wins?" Demyx shook his head, hopping to yet another cobblestone, dirty blond hair billowing. "Then how do you win?"

"There are no winners; it's not that kind of game."

"Then what's the point?"

Demyx laughed. "The point is that it's _fun_. Haven't you ever done anything just because it was fun?"

Zexion bit his lip, momentarily remembering a time when he was really little and would pretend that his bedroom was full of lava so he would have to jump from one surface to another. Of course, that was before his parents caught him and he was punished for acting like an uneducated child, which he wasn't. After that, he never played another game like it. "No. I haven't."

"We should change that then, I think." Demyx whispered, twirling a bit before wind-milling again. "Jump."

And he jumped. He jumped to one cobblestone, followed by another and another. He laughed into his palm when Demyx fell a few feet ahead because he was going too fast, and he laughed when Demyx caught back up to him and tried pushing him off, resulting in the two of them falling into the dew-coated grass. He barely struggled when Demyx picked him up bridal style and they tried again; he barely even called him an idiot when they fell again just short of the church steps, ending in Zexion scrapping an elbow and Demyx cutting his scalp on a rock. He snickered like a child when the blond attempted to race him across, and he couldn't help but giggle as Demyx tickled his sides at one point while the two of them were nothing but a puddle on the ground.

He was happy.

Really, genuinely happy.

"Good evening to you boys too." They both perked up, pulling away from each other ever so slightly to watch the woman in the church doorway, giggling into her palm as one arm held her side as if trying to keep it in place. It appeared as though she had been there for a while.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Demyx shot up. "It's late and we're probably trespassing and…did we wake you?"

The woman shook her head, wiping one of her doe eyes as her laughter finally began to die down. "No, no. Don't worry about it. I'm always awake at this time of the night. Would the two of you like to come inside?" She asked good-naturedly, gesturing into the church.

Hesitantly, Demyx looked to Zexion. The criminal nodded, pulling himself up and brushing the grass from his clothes. "Yeah, that'd be great."

Subdued, the two followed the woman into the church, awed by the polished inside and the moonlight that streamed through the stained glass windows that lined the walls. "This church has been around for over fifty years; my father says it's been around since before he was born." The woman smiled kindly at the pair, pushing a strand of her dark brown hair away from her face. "Would you like to take a look around? I wouldn't mind showing you the church."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I've quite caught your name?" Zexion asked.

"Belle." The woman answered shortly, still smiling. "And yours?"

"Oh, umm, this is Zexion and I'm Demyx. We're with the detectives that are trying to find the murder on the news." Belle nodded, turning those doe eyes of hers to the center of the church. "And we'd love to see the church, if that's okay with you, that is."

"Of course." Belle answered, twirling on her heel in such a way that her simple blue dress billowed out around her calves. "Just let me go get a flashlight from upstairs. Since this church is so old, none of the lower levels have any working electricity because of the possibility of a fire hazard. I'll be right back." She flashed them one last smile before practically dancing up the stairs, leaving Zexion and Demyx alone once again.

"So…" Demyx started, taking a seat on one of the cushioned pews, watching Zexion with a smile on his face. He looked healthier than he did before. His cheeks were flushed a bright pink from laughter and his expression was more content than blank. Even his visible eye had more of a spark than it normally did, offsetting the porcelain pale of his skin as the moonlight streamed down on him through the stained glass. His clothes were ruffled and dirtied, hanging off his thin shoulders and exposing a tiny area of his collarbone. On one arm, a light stream of blood ran down his elbow, smudged at its center. Demyx nearly laughed; this was not the Zexion he had come to know over the past few days. This Zexion was someone completely different. And he liked that. He liked that a lot.

The criminal raised one eyebrow high in amusement, weight shifting to the left as he placed one hand on his hip, that blue eye as alight as Demyx had ever seen it. "What exactly are you staring at?" And it was funny, because as much as he hated the stares he had received over the years, he couldn't bring himself to hate this one.

"A beautiful person." Demyx replied, smiling as Zexion gaped at him. "I'm staring at a truly beautiful person."

The younger of the two let out a short, hollow laugh, rolling his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"But I do." Demyx mumbled, getting up to stand impossibly close to the other male. Zexion turned away, his arms held protectively.

"You're just confused." He was not a beautiful person. He had killed people. He had taken away the lives that Demyx had always thought were precious. He could not under any circumstances be considered beautiful to someone like Demyx. Their ideals and morals were just too different from one another's.

"I'm not. You're a beautiful person, Zexion." Demyx replied, his voice even as he grabbed the tip of Zexion's thin chin, making him face him. "Why don't you believe me?" He asked sincerely.

Zexion snatched his chin away, trying to get away only to have Demyx grab both of this bony wrists to keep him in place. "Because, Demyx, I am _not _a beautiful person, no matter what you may say. I _know _who I am. I know _what _I am."

"You just don't see it." The blond insisted, pulling Zexion even closer still by his thin, thin wrists.

"Aren't you listening to me? I said—" And deep blue orbs went wide as chapped lips brushed over his own. The kiss wasn't long or particularly passionate, but chaste and sweet. Zexion didn't know how to respond. He just stood still with Demyx's mouth against his own, the slight weight around his wrists keeping him in place. Before long, the blond pulled away, his oceanic pools hooded and all-seeing.

"You talk too much." He whispered against the younger's ear, sending a shiver down his spin. And then he kissed him again, longer this time, a fire burning behind his actions. It was the strangest thing, feeling every chap and chip in those lips that didn't belong to him. It was strange, but Zexion would have been lying if he would have said that it was entirely unwanted.

Hesitantly, with a little prompting from the man moving against him, the criminal kissed back, his lips inexperienced and sloppy in their movements, but lovely all the same. Two twin sets of blue closed in bliss as their lips moved as one, a delighted flush taking over two sets of cheeks. And just as they pulled apart for air, looking at each other more in shock than affection, they heard it.

They heard the blood curling scream from up above.

* * *

**A/N: Now, that, my dears, is what we call relationship movement. And you didn't even have to squint. ^^**

**Anyway, this chapter didn't take me very long to type up, so I'm hoping the next will be the same way (I haven't even started it yet...). Also, next month, this story might only be getting one update instead of the two that I had planned. I'll still try for two, but I'm going to be working on two holiday fics (one for Christmas and one for New Year's). Information for both can be found on my profile under _I'll Make You Fly_- which may or may not be completed since it's causing me trouble- and_ Color Psychology. _I'll also be doing another Christmas fic with original character on deviantART under the title _Hot Tub Addictions. _But, like I said, I'll still try to get two done. If I can't, I might end up doing three in January, since I'm hoping to have this story completed by about May. **

**Quiz Winner: DejiNekoChan. Many a pleny of internet cookies for you~ ^-^**

**Quiz: In the next chapter, a character that has been previously introduced is the one to die, while another takes the blame. One is featured in Kingdom Hearts II, but is not an original character, while the other is featured solely in two games, yet mentioned in another. Who are they? **

**Also, what are your thoughts on the kiss? Was it too sudden? **

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters.**


	11. Guardian Soul

**Done and done! **

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**Also, this chapter has not been beta-ed, because my beta has had to resign due to personal reasons (that sounds extremely formal for some reason -_-). Life is much more important than this fic, though, so I wish her loads of luck. Also on that note, if you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong within this chapter, let me know and I'll be sure to fix it to the best of my abilities. **

**As for other things, read the Author's Note at the bottom, as always.**

**Now on with the chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It hurt to breathe.

With his head in between his knees, Demyx didn't know what he was supposed to do. And the church's old stairs weren't really helping all that much. If anything, they only reminded him of everything he had done wrong in the past few hours. If he had done as he was told—as he was _ordered_—he and Zexion would probably still be at the hotel, reading or otherwise. They wouldn't be here. They wouldn't have been here to meet the girl, the girl who was now dead, killed while they were still within range. He was trained, wasn't he? He was supposed to notice things like murderers sneaking in at night. He was supposed to _stop_ them. But here he was, absolutely useless once again. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't help anyone.

And that hurt worse than anything else ever could.

"Demyx…damn it, man, what the hell are you even doing here?" The blond in question just shook his head, his drooping dirty blond hair shaking back and forth like a hound's ears. Above him, Axel sighed, pushing his hair out of his face to reveal his exhausted acidic green eyes. "Come on, Dem, that wasn't rhetorical. You have to answer."

And Demyx knew that. He was now part of the investigation; Zexion was as well. The two of them were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and…neither of them was worried about Belle at the time. They were too wrapped up in their own petty conversation; they weren't paying attention at all. Demyx would never forgive himself for this. What would have happened if he had been paying attention? Would he have heard anything? Would he have been able to save her? He'd never know.

"I know. It's just…I don't know, Axel. Everything was fine." Oceanic blue eyes closed, holding back a wave of tears that he just wouldn't let fall; he was not going to cry again. Not over this. Not now. "We just went for a walk and ended up here. She was going to show us the church, you know? And she just didn't come back down." But she was down now. Larxene and the others had already loaded the poor girl up and taken her body away. All that was left was a crime scene, just a stupid crime scene that would tell them nothing, just like all the others.

The senior detective shook his head, mostly to himself, scribbling onto his beat-up clipboard before taking a seat beside the other on the steps, his long legs trailing in the dew-coated grass below. "Was Zexion with you the whole time?" He asked indifferently.

Demyx's head shot up, those blue eyes of his staring at the other in shock. _Was Zexion with him the whole time_? They couldn't possibly think that the other did this. "Of course he was with me!" He bite out, gritting his teeth to keep from going on, from saying what he really wanted to. He wanted to tell him that he might not look like it and he might not act like it, but he _was_ a detective. He _knew _that Zexion was only with them on a trial basis. If anything went wrong, the other would be sent back to prison quicker than…_anything_, if Leon had anything to say about it. Of course he had been keeping an eye on Zexion, especially since they had left Auron at the hotel to sleep. He wasn't that much of an idiot.

"Chill, Dem. I had to ask, you know that."

"Yeah, I know." And maybe Demyx did know, but that didn't make it any less offensive. He shouldn't have had to ask; he should have known that Demyx wouldn't let the criminal out of his sight. Though, Demyx couldn't be angry with Axel, even he knew that it wasn't his fault. Axel trusted him, even though he did find him childish at times. He wouldn't have suspected him or Zexion for even a minute. Leon, however, was a completely different story. It was no secret that he disliked the criminal. He didn't trust him and, with his little faith in Demyx, he wouldn't have ruled the other out. After all, he had killed someone before; there was nothing saying that he wouldn't kill again, despite how often he disagreed.

The redhead yawned into his palm, knocking his chops together in a way that created a sick sort of sound, making the other seem even more feral than normal, even in his fatigued state. It was no secret that he and Roxas hadn't managed to get any sleep, regardless of the fact that it was already three o'clock in the morning. The two had been attempting to put together full backgrounds on all the victims, cross referencing them for any similarities, at the office. According to Roxas, they were barely even on the sixth victim before they got the call that sent them to the church. "Last question and then we're done. You can deal with that, right?" Axel asked gingerly, rubbing the small of the other's back in a way that was almost soothing.

Demyx nodded, lolling his head forward once again, letting his eyes slide closed at the motion. "Right."

"If Zexion was with you—_Since _Zexion was with you the entire time," the older quickly corrected at the blond's not quite scathing glare, "what were the two of you doing? You said when we arrived that Belle had gone upstairs to retrieve a flashlight in order to show you the lower levels of the church, but you said that she was gone for at least five minutes. So, what were the two of you doing while she was gone?"

The blond visibly paled under his tan at that. The question was innocent—routine, even—but what was he supposed to say? That he was kissing a criminal? No. Oh no, he could never tell him that. What would he say? Would he be disappointed? Or would he just look at him with those eyes of his before writing everything down and handing it off to Leon? His boss would surly think that he was covering for the other; he would send him back to Hollow Bastion without a second thought. And he couldn't let that happen. No matter what, he could _not _let that happen. Not now. Not when the other was finally starting to open up to him.

"Demyx?" Axel asked, his finger's faltering just slightly in their motion.

"We were just talking." The other managed after a moment, his voice hesitant as he looked down at his feet.

"And you're sure that was all you were doing? You were just talking?"

"Yeah. That's all we were doing."

"And you're absolutely positive about that?"

"Absolutely positive."

And Axel was always one to question his coworkers, but he didn't have a problem with letting his friends slide.

Even when he knew they were lying.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Uh, Zexion?" One cobalt orb shifted disinterestedly as the criminal took a seat in the place he had occupied only a few hours before, his newly obtained book sitting innocently on the table in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the junior detective shuffling his feet against the hotel's carpeting, his eyes on anything but him.

"What is it?" He asked nonchalantly, his tone portraying nothing but indifference even though it was all a lie. He didn't have to ask what the other wanted, nor did he not care. He just didn't want to talk about it. Honestly, if it was all the same, he never wanted to talk about it. He would be perfectly content in just letting the events of the past few hours slide, just forgetting about them all together.

Demyx bit his lip, his upper layer of teeth nearly sinking in to the flesh. What was he supposed to say? That he was sorry? That he liked him? That he may or may not have lied to his friend's face only a mere hour before just to keep him here? Nothing really seemed appropriate, and it's not like anyone had ever prepared him for a situation like this; this wasn't the type of thing they taught in training. "Shouldn't we talk about what happened?" He finally settled with a few hesitant moments later, his voice meekly echoing off the hotel's crisp walls.

Only a few feet away from him, the criminal sighed, crossing his legs leisurely before brushing his fringe of bangs behind his ear, exposing both cool, calculating eyes. "It didn't happen." He said, his voice quiet but final. And he meant what he said. To him, it just didn't happen, or—more fittingly— he didn't _want _it to have happened, so he was going to treat it like it didn't. He just couldn't deal with it. His main focus had to be on his freedom, first and foremost, and silly things such as emotions couldn't get in his way. Zexion wouldn't _let _them get in his way. He didn't have the time or the patience required to worry about any possible affection he may or may not be feeling for his temporary coworker. Especially since that coworker just so happened to be Demyx, whom he couldn't even really call a friend. The blond was merely a coworker whom he could tolerate to stay in the presence of. That's all there was to it.

Or, at least, that's all there was that he would ever _let_ there be.

"It didn't happen." Demyx repeated, whispering it to himself before sinking to his hotel bed in one miserable motion, his body sinking into the mattress as he just sat there, staring at the carpet with his arms hung by his sides. He didn't know what was really happening; he didn't even know what he was expecting. It's just that, throughout everything that he had been through in his short life, he hadn't expected those three little words to hit him so hard. _It didn't happen_. It meant so much to him, because he actually _meant_ what he had said. He really did think that the other was a beautiful person, on both the inside and the outside, even if it didn't always show. And to hear—to watch—the other just slip from the happy, content Zexion he had seen at the church only a few hours before to the cold, callous Zexion he saw now, it just…hurt. It hurt every part of him. "How can you even say that?"

The younger just shook his head, his hair falling back into place and covering his eye. He wasn't going to lie to himself and make himself believe that he didn't hear the raw hurt in the other's voice. He wasn't going to even attempt to turn his eyes away from those shattered oceanic orbs, their sorrow deep and mournful even though they were turned away from him, staring pointedly at the floor. He wasn't going to lie and make himself believe that he really didn't care. But he_ would_ make himself believe that it didn't matter. Not now, anyway; his freedom was far more important to him. Besides, Demyx's feelings for him were fleeting and, in the end, no matter how kind he seemed on the outside, he would be just like all the others before him. And he refused to ever set himself up for that kind of pain again. It was just easier for the both of them if he ended everything here before they even managed to really start. Kissing the other had been a mistake, and it wouldn't be happening again.

"Just go to sleep, Demyx." He ordered, allowing another sigh to pass his lips. The blond on the bed just nodded, not even seeming to care as he toed his shoes off and curled up under the covers without another word, those azure orbs facing away from him. To anyone else it would have appeared as if the other had just let the matter drop, but Zexion could see the subtle shake in the other's shoulders, letting him know without a shadow of a doubt that the detective would be bringing the subject back up once he awoke, once it didn't hurt so much.

But for now, Zexion could just ignore it like he did everything else as he reopened his copy of _Kingdom Hearts_, prepared to finish it before the first stream of sunlight made it through the window, ignoring sleep for the time being.

After all, he'd do anything to gain the upper hand in this battle: his life was at stake.

**K3YBLAD3**

He was uncatchable.

He had destroyed her, taken away all her darkness, and all from right under their noses. Those two were just down the stairs, talking with one another, and he had done it. At first, he hadn't been so sure. He had thought that they would notice him, all crouched in the darkness just above their heads. What would he have done if he had been caught? There would be no one left to battle the darkness, and they just wouldn't understand. They would _never _understand.

No.

Those detectives would never understand anything.

After all, it's not like they could see the darkness swirling around. It's not like they knew about the light and how it was slowly being devoured. They didn't know; they didn't understand. And it was his job. It was his job to take care of things. This was his town. His beautiful little town that he just wouldn't let the darkness override.

If those two would have caught him, then everything would have been over; there would have been no one left to battle the darkness.

But they didn't catch him. No, no. They hadn't suspected a thing.

And he was _euphoric_.

He had taken that girl's life away before they noticed anything was amiss. He was right there, right there the entire time. And they could do nothing! Nothing at all! They couldn't save her, for by the time they made it up the stairs, she was already long gone, that pretty blood of hers seeping out into the open air as the light took over her, making her eyes misty and disappear beneath those appealing pale lids that drew everyone in like they were simply toys.

It was simply beautiful to his eyes. It was such a shame that he couldn't stay and watch all the darkness disappear, though. Such a crying shame. But no matter. There was more darkness to be extinguished. And now, now, he was simply unstoppable. He could take away anyone's darkness, even with that nasty crew of detectives running about. He could even take away _their _darkness. After all, he had done it before when he was all alone with that man. He had taken away his darkness; he had, so who was to say that he couldn't do it again? With the others around this time?

No one.

No one could stop him from taking away their darkness.

"Maybe I help you?" He smiled a smile that looked so innocent on the outside while the inside was simply festering in ecstasy. Less than three feet away stood a man clothed in red, his brown eyes gruff and filled with unquestioned authority. His hair was rumpled in just the slightest way, and it was apparent to him that the other had probably just woken up, which made since considering how early it was on such a fine, fine morning. He should probably be settling in himself, because he still had a day job, despite his now routine nightly endeavors. But he couldn't do such a thing, not with the overwhelming adrenaline of light and dark running through his veins, pushing him forward like a plaything, like he was its puppet, free and willing to do as it wished.

"Oh, yes, please." He answered, still smiling that smile. "You see, I lost something along the stairwell and I can't seem to find it. Would you mind helping me look? A fresh pair of eyes would help, I think." And the man in red nodded, watching him curiously as he silently followed him to the stairs. Within moments, they were hidden from the rest of the world, bathed perfectly under false lighting, every slight wrinkle exposed like they were merely corpses taking a stroll.

The man tilted his head to the side, watching him with suspicious alertness as he leaned just slightly over the rail. "What exactly are we looking for?" He asked before looking down the stairs. And there he was, all perfectly in position, like he had been prepared for this moment. Why else would he turn his back on a total stranger? Why else would he make himself so available? He wouldn't; it was as simple as that.

Soundlessly, he edged closer to him, allowing him to lean down just the slightest bit more. Behind his back, he held the needle, preparing it like an expert as he waited for the perfect opportunity. His fingers were shaking, just waiting for the thrill of destroying the darkness. "You'll know it when you see it." He answered merrily, barely containing his excitement.

"Who ar—" And there it was, the perfect opening. Just as he turned, with that question on his lips—the question that would have given it all away, for he must have realized that something was off— he took the plunge. He only had a split second, but that was all he needed. The other was fast and trained in the art of combat, but that meant nothing. He was unprepared for the needle that sank into his flesh without a moment of hesitation, filling his veins with enough of the sedative to still his movements immediately, the dosage most definitely lethal, especially when injected in a place as vulnerable as the neck.

And then he laughed, a malicious, undeniably evil sound as he pushed the other, watching their still living being crash into the stairwell as he went down, stopping at the third floor landing, blood splattered about from place to place.

He waited for a moment after his laughter died away listening for any signs of life at such an early hour, but no one came, just as he knew they wouldn't. Leisurely, he descended the stairs separating him from his prey, securing away his needle and tugging on his gloves as he cradled his precious blade. He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he crouched down beside the dying figure, watching as the darkness seeped from his eyes.

"I told you that you would know what we were looking for when you saw it. After all, it was your darkness that I was after, you know."

**K3YBLAD3**

He awoke to a scream.

Oceanic orbs opened wide instantly, despite the sleep deprivation he had been experiencing over the past few days. He propelled his body forward so that he was standing—half on his bed and half off—and he really didn't understand what was going on.

Directly in front of him, Zexion was being dragged from his bed, his hair askew and his eyes fully exposed. He looked to be trying to wrench his arms free from his attacker, but it was to no avail. The stronger male just gave one sharp tug that pulled him off the bed and caused him to land face down on the floor, his legs entangled in the sheets, one boney ankle seemingly twisted at an impossible angle. And Demyx really couldn't do anything, because he just didn't understand what was going on.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" Zexion's voice echoed hysterically, like its possessor was in shock, as his assailant—_Riku—_straddled him from behind and slapped a pair of handcuffs across his wrists, tightening them to the point of unnecessarily cutting off the criminal's circulation.

"You, Zexion Schewyer, are under arrest for the murder of Auron Grays. You have the right to remain silent. Anything yo—"

"What are you talking about?" The younger, much weaker of the two struggled under the other's grip, unable to even lift his face from the carpeting without having it pushed back down. Murdered? Auron Grays, the guard who was ordered to keep him in line, was murdered? And they thought that _he _did it? Twilight Town had been infested with a serial killer for over a week, and they thought that he was the one to kill him? Why would he? Why would he jeopardize his one chance at freedom? Besides, Auron was a big man. He was trained to defend himself against criminals. How could someone as weak as Zexion ever manage to overpower him long enough to kill him? He didn't have the strength, the stamina, nor the resources that would even give him the _chance _of winning against him; so how? How could he be the one who had done this?

Above him, Riku scowled, his pretty face marred by such a merciless expression. "Don't play dumb; you know damn well what." He spat, grabbing at one of Zexion's upper arms angrily, squeezing his fingers around the prominent bone. "You found your chance, didn't you?" The criminal whimpered beneath him, biting at his lower lip to stop the noise from escaping. And Riku couldn't stand it. He had told them! From the very beginning, he had told them that Zexion would turn on them. It wasn't like the other had turned over a new leaf—once a criminal, _always _a criminal. Did anyone believe him? No! There was a bit of backlash in the beginning, but in the end, everyone just had to _please Demyx_, giving in to him and babying him more than they ever had before. But he didn't understand! Demyx didn't fucking understand what these people were like! They were manipulative. They pulled you in and sunk their claws into you so that you could never get away.

Zexion was just a leech.

He may not have requested to be a member of their team, but that didn't mean that he wasn't milking it for all it was worth. The others just didn't see it the way he did; Sora even thought that he was being paranoid about the criminal, but he knew better. He had seen it all before. Zexion was getting close to Demyx. So very, very close. They talked. They stayed in the same room. They ate together. They were _paired_ together. And Demyx was just too stupid to realize what was happening! Zexion was getting closer to him so that he could _use _him! Once this was all over, Zexion would be free to kill again! And they—the team, _Demyx_—would have been the ones to cause it.

But no, Zexion would never be free. They had caught him before the case was even over.

"Didn't you?" Riku yelled once it was apparent that the criminal wouldn't answer, his eyes hardening with every passing moment. "Of course you did." He answered himself, voice vindictive as he tugged on Zexion's thin wrists once again. "There's no evidence. You're so close to the heart of this investigation that you must have thought that you could get away with it. It was the perfect opportunity, wasn't it? People are dropping like flies; you must have thought that you could just blame it on him. That we wouldn't fucking notice!" Angrily, the profiler stood, pulling Zexion to his feet so roughly that the younger hung like a ragdoll in his grip, his feet still tangled in the sheets. "But we did."

"But I didn't do anything!" Zexion managed through gritted teeth, attempting to pull his feet free of the covers without toppling to the ground. Behind him, Riku scoffed, pushing him forward a few inches as he got a better grip on the handcuffs. And Zexion didn't know what to do. This wasn't like the last time. Last time, the cop that had taken him away had done so gently, almost sympathetically, pushing his head down when they lead him past his parents and the media. But Riku…Riku _hated _him. Riku had hated him since before they had met, and Zexion didn't blame him for that. But this? Blaming him for a murder that he couldn't have possibly committed? Did he really hate him that much?

Wildly, the convicted scanned his eyes across the room. He stared fleetingly at one of the dinner nook's chairs had toppled over in the slight scuffle, followed by the bed he had slept in that was now half collapsed on the floor, and then, then there was Demyx. He was just standing there, staring with wide eyes between him and Riku, those innocent azure pools of his just watching them in disbelief, his hair even less composed than it normally was.

Demyx. Demyx. Demyx.

It was always Demyx.

It was always Demyx who stood up for him. It was always Demyx who made sure he ate and desperately tried to fight his logic. It was always Demyx who apologized. It was Demyx who had kissed him in the church and told him about that silly little game. It was Demyx who he told about Luxord. It was Demyx who he opened up to.

It was always Demyx who believed him.

"Riku…" The blond started, his voice rushing past the lump in his throat as he saw the pleading in Zexion's exposed—_vulnerable_—eyes. He was scared. Zexion was so scared. How could Riku not see that? He was shaking in his grip, his face pale and drawn. And Riku was the cause of it.

Demyx's silver headed coworker sighed, his eyes just as hard as they were before as he turned towards the junior detective. He refused to play into this game with the blond. He needed to learn the truth about the criminal, and the others were just too trapped in his naivety. But he would not be fooled by those blue eyes. Behind them, Demyx was just like everyone else. He was a human being too. "Auron doesn't have any words."

And Zexion could feel his heart plummet as he watched those _naïve_ blue eyes close off to him, hardening like ice.

Because, this time, Demyx _didn't_ believe him.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Tell me about last night." The voice was monotone and uncaring, its owner watching him through dull, angry eyes full of hatred. He wasn't surprised. It was no secret to him that Leon despised him.

Zexion fidgeted in his seat across from the brunette, his wrists held painfully in front of him, a thin chain linking them to one another. He was tired. Oh, so very tired. He didn't know how long they had kept him waiting, locked up in this little room. He hadn't bothered attempting to speak with them through the two-sided mirror that allowed them to look in on him. It would've been nothing but a wasted effort on his part. They thought he killed Auron; there was nothing he could do but wait it out and hope that it came out in his favor. So he waited, and then he answered question after question. He'd answered Axel when they sent him in, followed by Riku, and now, now he would answer Leon, because there was really nothing else that he could do.

"I was with Demyx…at the church." He mumbled with his eyes cast downwards, his voice quiet, almost like a whisper.

Leon's eyes narrowed dangerously. With a sigh, he opened up a folder in front of him, flipping through the pages one by one. "And after?"

"I was at the hotel with Demyx until Riku arrested me this morning." But Leon already knew that. After all, he must have watched the other interrogations through the mirror. He already knew the answers to these questions; nothing had changed. "You can ask him, if you want."

Leon smiled a bit at that, a rather vindictive smile in Zexion's opinion. "I have. Demyx can only verify that you were at the hotel room with him until sometime around dawn. We've been able to determine that Auron was killed about thirty minutes later, give or take a few. I'm sure you know what that means, Schewyer." Zexion blinked, exhaustion making his eyelids heavy. If what Leon was saying was true, then they could logically pin this on him. He would have had ample opportunity to slip out of his room and kill the guard, but that didn't mean that he could or even _would_. They couldn't honestly think that he would risk everything for something like this, could they? It was true that the other didn't have any words etched into his skin like the other victims did, but that didn't necessarily mean that the serial killer they had been chasing wasn't the culprit. Maybe he simply changed his MO. It would make sense, considering the previous victimalogy; nothing really matched up anyway. But still, it seemed like he was being played with, like some sort of toy. Whoever the killer happened to be, they had probably noticed the team and all its members, and he was notorious for being the youngest serial killer this side of Atlantica. What if he thought that it would pull the team's interest away from him if they prosecuted one of their own for murder? It was a logical course of action this late in the game, meaning that the killer had either come into contact with one of them or they were just covering their tracks.

He just didn't know. And besides, even if he told the others his thoughts, it wouldn't matter. They wouldn't believe him anyway.

"So, tell me, Schewyer, what were you doing during the allotted time?" Leon leaned back, watching him with those angry eyes.

The criminal shrugged, allowing the handcuffs to clank against the steel table. "I read. Before we went to the church, I managed to make it through most of Ansem's original book. I thought that I would just read the rest of it before I went to bed." Leon's eyes narrowed. Quietly, almost mechanically, he pulled a set of photographs out of the folder, and pushed them in front of him, indicating for him to look at them. And he knew from the very first glance that he didn't want to see them.

He'd never really had a problem with blood. Or death. Or corpses. He really hadn't. Ever since he was a child, he had known that everyone had to die at some point. Some people died when they were old, and others died when they were young—some abruptly, some graciously. It was all just the natural order of things. As a murderer himself, he understood the mentality of taking someone's life, and honestly, he'd hardly ever cared. To him, it just seemed as though those people would die more abruptly than the rest. That didn't mean that he never felt guilty about what he did—because he did, he always did—but it didn't mean as much to him as it did to other people, those people who had never killed anyone. He wasn't like Demyx, who valued anyone and everything. People were just…people to him. One day they were there, and the next they were just gone.

But this was different.

As with Luxord, he knew Auron. He wasn't close with either of them, but he was just a child when he met Luxord and he had seen Auron every day since his admittance to Hollow Bastion's Maximum Security Prison. He'd had a connection with the both of them. They weren't deep connections by any means, since he couldn't call himself a friend of either, but they were the closest things to friends he'd ever had, acquaintances almost. And first there was Luxord, bleeding out on his expensive carpeting with words carved into his chest, and then there was Auron.

Auron lying on his back, his eyes lifeless.

There was Auron with blood coating his already red clothes. There was Auron surrounded by patches of his own blood. There was Auron, the man he'd seen every day for _years_, lying on the ground, dead. And they were_ blaming _him.

"I didn't do this." He whispered, shaking his head so that his fringe covered both of his eyes and sliding the pictures back towards the brunette. "I really didn't, Leon."

And if Leon believed him, he didn't let it show. He simply scoffed before knocking on the mirror and telling Riku to lead him to his newly appointed cell.

**K3YBLAD3**

Demyx didn't understand a lot of things. He didn't understand politics or why some people conformed to everyone else. He didn't understand why he was laughed at in high school for liking Disney movies and he didn't understand why his parents had to die. He didn't understand why _anyone_ had to die. And right now, he didn't understand why everyone else was so sure that Zexion was the one that pushed Auron down the stairwell.

He just didn't understand.

It was true that Zexion had killed people before. He knew that; he wasn't that oblivious to the world around him. But that was years ago; Zexion was just a child at the time. And maybe he would have had the perfect opportunity to sneak away from their hotel room, but that didn't necessarily mean that he had. Part of him wanted to believe everyone else. He wanted to believe that Zexion killed Auron, that they had found one killer and that he would never walk the streets again. But he couldn't believe that. He just couldn't do it.

He was an idiot. He knew that; he had always known that, but that didn't mean that he wasn't right about this. Zexion didn't kill Auron; he was absolutely sure of it. Back in the hotel room, when Riku had first told him about the words, he had thought that Zexion had done it. He had turned his back on him when he really needed somebody. And he was _scared_; he was probably still _scared_. He didn't know what was going to happen to him now. He was smart—much smarter than Demyx could ever hope to be—and even Demyx knew that if he was convicted for this he would be sentenced to death. He wouldn't live long enough to start a family, to really grow up. He must have thought of that; he must still be thinking of that.

And Demyx was doing nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He was just letting this happen.

"I've contacted Hollow Bastion; they're sending someone down to collect him. They should be here sometime tomorrow evening." Leon stated, looking back over the crime scene photos for the past two murders. The brunette seemed to look the same as he always did, but Demyx could have sworn that he sensed a certain amount of smugness in his boss's gaze.

He could feel his own eyes narrow as his shoulders braced against the wall. Maybe he didn't understand everything, but this was wrong. He _knew_ this was wrong. "Why?" And even he could hear the dangerous amount of venom in his voice.

Within moments, everyone in the room had their eyes trained on him. Axel and Sora were watching him worriedly, both sets of corresponding pools cautious, while Riku was glaring daggers. Leon, however, just glanced at him disinterestedly before sighing. "Because he's a killer, Demyx. It makes perfect sense to send him back to Hollow Bastion where he can't do any more harm than he already has."

The blond crossed his arms in one rapid, childish movement, except it wasn't childish. For once, his movement had an air of authority about it, his eyes an angry azure. "But what if he didn't do it? Have you even thought of that possibility?"

"Don't be daft." Riku scoffed from his seat only a few feet away. "Zexion is a _criminal_, Demyx. I know that you're not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, but in case you haven't realized it yet, he kills people."

"Riku!" Sora exclaimed, nearly dropping the victim's folders to the floor in shock. Sora was a kindhearted person, and he'd known Riku since they were children, but he'd never once seen him act this vindictively towards a person. Originally, it was just Zexion that he couldn't stand; he could understand that. In the beginning, he wasn't exactly happy about having the criminal as a temporary member of their team either, but he had quickly gotten over that; Zexion had proved himself capable enough. Riku, however, didn't see that. He had been fighting the criminal every step of the way, and slowly but surely his loathing of Zexion had begun to transfer to Demyx. And he couldn't stand that. "Do you even realize what you're saying?"

"I know exactly what I am saying, Sora! Do you know what _you're _saying? Throughout this entire investigation, we've just let that—that criminal take over! He walks around like a free man even though he deserves to be locked up for good! How come no one else can see that?" Riku's fists balled at his sides, his eyes viciously switching from Sora to Demyx in rapid session.

"I know what Zexion has done, Riku, but that's no excuse for your behavior." The little brunette stood, his palms flattened against the table. "And there's no reason for you to take it out on Demyx either."

The profiler scoffed. "Demyx is the worst one! He coddles that criminal! And we just sit here and let it happen! Zexion should have _never _been brought here, but he was, all because Demyx wanted him to. And I for one am sick and tired of babying Demyx!"

"Riku, Sora, cut it out." Leon's voice cut in, to no avail.

"You think we _baby _him? Has it even occurred to you that Zexion is the only reason we know as much about the killer that we do? That without him we would still be running around in circles?" Sora's mouth curled downwards in a livid frown. Why couldn't Riku see all the good that Zexion had done for them? He wasn't perfectly, surely, but his past shouldn't be the only thing taken in to account.

"Everyone babies Demyx! How can you not see that? And there's no guarantee that we wouldn't have come up with everything he did on our own. Zexion ha—"

The blond in the corner cleared his throat, angrily squaring his shoulders as all eyes traveled back to him, the room silent. "So, let me get this straight: you're saying without a doubt that Zexion killed Auron, based entirely on the fact that he's killed someone—people—in the past. You have not thoroughly examined the body, because there hasn't been nearly enough time, nor have you come up with any scenario that does not include Zexion, since I'm sure that it would have already been brought up. Correct?"

"Not completely. We know that Aur—"

"Is that correct, Riku?" And at the scary amount of authority traveling through the blond's voice, Riku could only nod. "So, basically, you're saying that instead ofdoing your_ job_, which is to examine _all _the possible scenarios in a crime, you based the arrest of Zexion—the _violent _arrest of Zexion—entirely on the fact that Auron's body does not_ appear_ to have any words and the fact that you hate him. And don't say that that isn't a factor, because you and Leon—both of you—have discriminated against him from the very beginning of this investigation. It seems to me more like you're basing this arrest on your own personal feelings rather than the facts."

Riku crossed his arms in front of his chest. On some level, he realized that what Demyx said was the truth. Maybe he and Leon were blinded by their hatred, but that didn't necessarily mean that they were wrong. "And you're basing your assumption that he's innocent on your own feelings for that monster." He spat, and to his surprise, Demyx actually smiled. A terrible, spiteful smile.

"Actually, I'm not. I saw those crime photos just like the rest of you did, so tell me, Riku, how does someone who weighs about a hundred and twenty pounds—probably less— overpower someone Auron's size? Zexion's shorter than average, smaller than average, and has spent the past several years of his life in a ten by ten prison cell. Even if he was the size of an average person, he wouldn't have the physical strength required to overpower Auron.

"Besides, how does he even get Auron alone and into the stairwell? Auron was sent here to watch after him; he knew the rules. Zexion isn't allowed out without being accompanied by a member of the team. The second Auron laid his eyes on him, he would have sent him back inside.

"It just wouldn't make sense for Zexion to be in that stairwell with him. Have you thought about that? Either of you? Has it even crossed your minds that Zexion might not have done this, with or without the words etched into his skin?" He addressed them both now, watching them with narrowed eyes. And they were silent, because they really couldn't say anything. Zexion's entire conviction was based upon some hypothetical scenario that didn't even make sense. They were literally blinded by their hatred, and Zexion was the one paying for it.

"Demyx, Zexion was given the perfect opportunity to murder Auron; he has no alibi and he was located on scene." Leon stated, rubbing lazily at his temples, a migraine slowly building. "That is a perfectly logical basis for an arrest, especially with an offender such as Zexion."

The junior detective gritted his teeth, his muscles flexing as he kicked off the wall to stand up straight, his back at attention. "You know, I really expected better from you two. I really, really did."

"Where are you going?" Sora asked once Demyx moved towards the door, and Demyx turned and smiled that spiteful smile of his, direct more at his boss and the profiler than the poor communications specialist that had somehow gotten mixed up in everything.

"To speak with a criminal."

* * *

**A/N: Fail ending is fail. T.T**

**There's a lot of movement in this chapter in the way of plot development, and I'm sorry if the characters seem a bit OOC. I tried to keep them as in-character as I possibly could, but I feel like I got a little off-track there towards the middle. I think the overall effect remained the same, though, and well...the plot did need the boost. *shrugs***

**Also, I'm sorry for making Zexion so heartless in the beginning (no pun intended). For some reason, I see him as the type of person who pushes everything aside in the hopes of reaching one goal, and a relationship with Demyx would seem unbenificial to him at this point in the story. And, Riku...I didn't mean to make him such an ass when writing this, but he sort of came out that way. **

**Anyway, this chapter didn't take me very long to complete (since it's been done since the fourth and has just been with the beta for these past two or so weeks). So, if I can get into the groove of things again, I'll try for another chapter this month. I make no promises, though, since I'm still attempting to complete holiday fics. As for how those are going, _Color Psychology _will probably be abandoned for the time being and done sometime next spring (because the tone of it hates me), but I'm still hoping to get _I'll Make You Fly _typed and ready by New Year's. Still no promises, though, since I have to redo the beginning because it doesn't fit with my writing style as well as I would like it to. _Hot Tub Addictions_, however, has already been completed and I'll be posting a link to it on my profile on Christmas Eve.**

**Quiz Winner(s): None. The answers were Auron and Zexion. Auron was introduced in chapter two (_Hidden Dragon_) and is not an original character of Kingdom Hearts because he has previously been featured in multiple Final Fantasy games. Zexion was the one to take the blame for Auron's death, and was featured in both Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories and Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days, while he was only briefly mentioned in Kingdom Hearts II, because he was already dead by that time. **

**Quiz: None unless you want to try you luck at guessing who the killer is. I've already given plenty of information as to who (you just have to squint...a lot) it is a few chapters ago and this one only makes it more apparent. Also, is he starting to seem more insane to anyone else? He didn't start out so...out there, I don't think. Hmm...**

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters.**

**Also, Merry Christmas, if I don't end up posting something else beforehand! **

**Give me a shout if you have an idea for a Christmas fic; I still want to type up something for the holiday! ^-^**

**(Sorry this is so long~ feel free to ignore my blubbering)**


	12. Wishing Lamp

**Well, I said I would have it up by the third at the latest... **

**Happy Late New Year anyway! **

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~!**

**Also, this chapter, like the last, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know! **

**Enjoy! ^^**

* * *

He didn't really like the dark.

He never had. As a child, he would beg his parents to leave the lamp by his bedside table on. He would beg them to leave it on just for a little while, just until he fell asleep. Of course, his parents had always smiled those barely patient smiles of theirs and calmly explained that only ordinary children needed to sleep with the lights on, and that he was most certainly not an ordinary child. At that point, they would always leave—his father patting him on the head right beforehand—and, consequently, that meant that he was left alone. All by himself in the dark.

He didn't sleep well as a child.

Over the years, he had gotten a bit better about sleeping, and he had even conquered his fear of the dark. He now knew that it was irrational of him to fear such a thing; it's not like darkness ever really killed anyone. It never hurt anyone either. It was perfectly natural to be afraid of what resided _within _the darkness, but the darkness was really nothing to be afraid of. Of course, that was not to say that he liked the dark, because he didn't. He hated the dark.

And yet, here he was, alone in the dark. The team whom didn't believe him hadn't even bothered to give him enough light to see by. Riku had simply thrown him in without even bothering to remove the restricting handcuffs. He knew that he was in a cell, complete with a toilet and a fold out bed that was basically nothing more than a piece of wood with a sheet, yet devoid of a window of any kind. He also knew that directly in front of him stood a wall of bars that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and that there was a guard stationed in front of the jailhouse. But, all of this information was more of less useless anyway. He couldn't see anything but vague outlines of things, and he wasn't about to explore with his hands cuffed so tightly that they couldn't catch him if he were to fall. It would be nothing but a waste of time and energy. He already knew that the only way he would be leaving his newly appointed prison would be to led out by someone else; he was absolutely hopeless on his own.

So he waited.

After all, he had had years of practice. He had spent years just watching the world go by without him, and this would be no different. Except, this time, he couldn't really watch. Which was fine. He would be fine just sitting in his cell and waiting. It's not like it bothered him anyway.

The criminal sighed, pulling his knees up to his chin so that he could hold them with his bound arms. He hadn't done anything wrong. He knew that for a fact, and no amount of interrogation could convince him otherwise. He had simply come here with Demyx in hopes of regaining his freedom and catching a serial killer—though the latter was much less important in the grand scheme of things, it was necessary in acquiring the former. But, in doing that, he really hadn't done anything wrong. And he refused to admit that he had. Before, he had realized that what he was doing was wrong. He had known from the beginning that killing people was not something that was widely smiled upon; he had simply thought that it was for the best at the time. He knew better now, of course, but the point still remained.

He had always admitted it.

He had never once lied about killing anyone.

He hadn't lied to save his own skin or anyone else's, because he knew. He hadn't lied because he had known from the very beginning that it was wrong. And yet, here he was, locked in a cell because they thought that he had killed his guard. Hadn't they read his record? Zexion Schewyer was a lot of things— some of which were terrible, terrible things— but he was _not _a liar. At least, he never lied about anything important. He manipulated people, but that didn't make him an outright liar, did it? So, why? Why wouldn't they believe him when he told them that he didn't do it? It was senseless and frustrating and…he didn't know what he was supposed to do.

With a swish, the lights flicked on overhead, causing Zexion to squint as his head swiveled from side to side. At first, all he could see were the bars in front of him, nothing but smudges along his vision, but then a second or so later, he saw feet. Slightly elongated feet covered in light blue Converses. And he knew who those shoes belonged to.

Zexion turned his head away, staring at his bound hands instead. He didn't want to deal with the man above him, even if he may well be his only hope. "Do you need something, Demyx?"

The blond in question sighed, shrugging his shoulders even though he knew that the other could not see them. His entire body was drained mentally from standing up to the higher-ups. He might lose his job—after all, he was just the idiot rookie. What was he supposed to do then? There was nothing left for him in Atlantica. He had an apartment and some money he'd been saving, but what was he supposed to do? He had devoted the majority of his life to obtaining this job; this was all he had ever wanted. And he was letting a convicted serial killer jeopardize everything he had worked for. He should be angry. He should be banging on the bars, yelling and screaming that _Zexion Schewyer _was ruining _everything_. But…he couldn't do that. He couldn't be angry, and he couldn't yell or scream. He couldn't even make himself feel bitter towards the criminal because all he could think was that it wasn't his fault.

Zexion Schewyer may have done horrible things in the past. He may have killed people; he may not have cared about anyone in the world. He may have been a selfish, self-centered psychopath. But, _this _Zexion Schewyer, the very same Zexion who was sitting before him behind a set of steel bars looking oh so fragile, was _not _that Zexion. This Zexion was nothing but a child, all alone and forgotten by everyone, all by himself in the dark. This Zexion hadn't done anything wrong.

And that made everything worth it.

For all he knew, Leon was already filling out his papers of resignation, but that didn't matter because he had done something. He had known what was happening was wrong and he had stood up for the Zexion that was all alone in the dark. He had done _something_. And that's all that mattered.

"How are you feeling?" He managed after a moment or two of just looking at the pitiful creature before him, his mind lost on other things. On the ground, Zexion snorted into his knee, the fabric of his pajama bottoms—Demyx's pajama bottoms—ripped around the area, exposing scratched porcelain skin to the chilling air.

"How do you think I feel, Demyx?" The criminal rolled his blue eyes, letting his arms drop, the metal vibrating against the cold floor. Why was Demyx even here? He had already proven back at the hotel room that he didn't believe him any more than the rest of them did.

"Angry, probably, and I don't really blame you for that." Demyx stated honestly, taking a seat directly across from the accused, leaving nothing but bars to separate them from one another. "But, that's not really what I was asking. I was wondering if you were doing okay after…Riku was pretty, yeah. I've never seen him like that before."

Suddenly, Zexion had to fight the urge to laugh. This was just like the kind Demyx he had come to know since coming to Twilight Town. This Demyx didn't have eyes like ice; this Demyx believed him. And he was fishing! For some reason, he couldn't help the smile that curved at his lips as that thought hit him, his knees coming up to cover it before Demyx could see. Maybe he wasn't completely alone after all. "My ankle hurts and I'm sure I'll have plenty of bruises to categorize, but I'll live." He said after a moment, a hint of amusement hidden in his tone.

Before him, Demyx smiled, leaning back on his palms and stretching his legs out so that his ankles played in between the bars, those Converses of his rubbing against the metal. "You categorize them?" He asked with one eyebrow raised. At the younger's slight nod, he had to laugh, rolling his eyes just a bit.

"It's not like there's much else to do in prison." And, just like that, the relaxed air that had slowly begun to descend upon them was gone. Bruises, aches, pains…none of them mattered right now. Zexion was going to go back to Hollow Bastion; his life was more or less over before it had even really had the chance to begin.

Zexion sighed, bringing his hands up so that he could rest his chin against his palm. "Why are you here, Demyx?"

The older of the two shrugged again, feeling like they were right back to square one. They weren't friends; he knew that. He wanted them to be friends. He even wanted them to be more than friends sometimes, but he didn't really trust himself with what he wanted. As for now, he wasn't sure what they were anymore. They weren't friends, but they weren't enemies or acquaintances or even allies. They were just…people. Just two people stuck together against all odds.

"I just wanted to talk."

"What if I don't want to talk back?" The criminal asked, his voice low and nonchalant.

"Then I guess you'll listen." One elegant, slate eyebrow raised curiously, its owner's head tilting slightly to the side. He could do that; he could listen. The blond watched him move, taking a deep breath before moving closer to the bars so that he could watch his reactions. "I don't know if you killed Auron, but I don't think you did. Whichever it is, I'm willing to believe whatever you say, because I don't think you're a liar. So Zexion, tell me—right here, right now— did you murder Auron Grays?"

The accused shook his head, lips threatening to curve upwards at the simplicity that was Demyx. "No. I did not kill Auron."

And to his surprise, Demyx smiled— a toothy sort of smile that was nearly contagious. "Okay. Then there's nothing to worry about. I'll see what I can do about keeping you away from Hollow Bastion, and I'll try to keep Leon and Riku off your case until we can find out who _really _killed Auron."

"It's not that simple and you know it." Zexion couldn't keep himself from cutting in. Because, no matter what he wanted to believe, there was only so much that Demyx could do for him. He shouldn't build himself up with false hopes. He couldn't.

The blond deflated a little bit, watching him with those oceanic blue eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Yeah, you're right. But can we just let it be simple for now? The world's too complicated most of the time, so let's just make it easy. Please?"

And Zexion couldn't keep himself from nodding, letting the blond have whatever he wanted in this moment of solitude. Who was he to deny the one person in the entire world who believed him? Who cared enough to help him, even when he didn't really deserve it?

"Simple it is then." The younger agreed, knotting his fingers together in front of him in that habitual routine of his. The junior detective leaned against the bars, just watching him as the minutes passed. He liked watching the criminal. He liked watching him knot his fingers and his toes, and touching his elbows together nervously. He liked seeing his one visible eye narrow and widen in both irritation and shock. He liked watching his skin transform as the days passed, from that sickly sort of tone to one that better resembled a china doll. He enjoyed the manipulative speeches, that angry sort of discipline that passed through his pursed lips.

He just liked _Zexion_.

He liked the way he moved, the way he spoke. He liked the half smiles and the angry eye rolls. He liked the way that skin of his glistened after he'd just taken a shower. He liked how everything had to be logical with him, even though that was the opposite of whom Demyx himself was. He liked how the younger didn't make any sense to him. How he could never make any sense _of _him.

"Demyx…?" The blond blinked, moving those eyes of his away from the criminal's ever-moving fingers and up to his face. Zexion's face was tilted towards him, that visible eye watching his every move with startling clarity. "Why are you so willing to help me?" He voiced once he was sure the other was listening.

And just as he expected, Demyx shrugged and answered in that nearly infuriatingly innocent way of his. "Because you need it."

Pale lips pursed in thought, Zexion leaned away, letting his bound hands hit the ground with the loud, unmistakable sound of metal hitting concrete. Blond eyebrows rose in confusion. "You're an idiot." The criminal said curtly, turning his head away, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm _not _an idiot." Demyx snapped venomously, causing the younger of the two to jump at the tone. The detective stopped, biting his lower lip and breathing through his nose. There was no reason for him to be so angry; it wasn't Zexion's fault that he had come to hate it so much. "Sorry." He managed after a little while, his voice sincerely apologetic. "Why am I an idiot?" _This time_, he mentally added.

Zexion sighed, letting the tension slowly drain from his shoulders. "Because I don't deserve your help; you know what I've done in the past. And, even if I wasn't the one to kill Auron, it's not like I've never killed anyone before. I'm as much of a murderer as Riku and Leon think I am, despite the fact that there's one less body on my conscience."

"But that doesn't mean that you don't deserve help, even if it is only from me. Everyone deserves to have someone to believe in them—someone who's willing to help them no matter what they've done, or may do in the future." Demyx insisted, his fists clenching around the bars separating them with such force that his knuckles turned white. "That what I think, anyway." He added at the smaller of the two's incredulous look.

With wide eyes, the criminal laughed, covering his mouth disbelievingly with porcelain hands as the breathless giggles escaped. And, Demyx couldn't help but stare. He had thought that the younger's smile was absolutely brilliant, yet it paled in comparison to this. This sweet, sweet laughter that didn't even sting with the bitter drops of venom that everything else did. It wasn't a smirk or a snort, or even the slightest bit condescending. It was just laughter. Genuine, honest laughter.

He loved it.

"Fine, Demyx. You're not an idiot." He managed with his mouth hidden behind his hand, his words more muffled than they had ever been. "You're just gullible. And idealistic. And-and…_nice_." The criminal collapsed backwards, letting his elbows crack against the chilled flooring before wrapping them around his middle as he laughed, his knees coming up so that he was almost in the fetal position.

And Demyx couldn't help but smile even though he had no idea why the other was laughing; it wasn't in the least bit funny. But that was okay. Zexion was younger than he was, yet he acted like someone who had already surpassed the prime of their life. It would've been a lie if Demyx had said or even thought that this wasn't a wonderful sight to behold. He was acting like a teenager for once—the happy kind of teenager that everyone needed to be every once in a while. Demyx couldn't—_wouldn't_—deny him that little bit of hysterical happiness.

After a while, the laughter died down, allowing silence to settle over them. Zexion didn't bother to move from his new position, spread out on the floor with his eyes slightly glazed as he stared through his hair at the ceiling, and Demyx didn't mind leaning against the bars and returning to watching the younger's chest rise and fall rhythmically. They were okay; there was no reason for them not to be. Zexion may or may not end up back in Hollow Bastion, no matter what Demyx wanted, and there was still a serial killer at large in the very town they were currently residing in. He might lose his job because he refused to incriminate someone based on feelings; Riku might never forgive him for showing even an ounce of humanity for someone who had been labeled a murderer. They had kissed in the heat of the moment, and Zexion refused to acknowledge the fact that it had even happened. But that was okay. Everything was okay right now.

And that's all that Demyx could ever really hope for.

"What happened to your parents?" The blond jumped, watching Zexion's limp form, those eyes still trained on the ceiling despite the words that had just passed those pale, pale lips. "You don't have to tell me." He added, not even bothering to look over at the other, his voice serious and detached.

"Why…do you want to know?" Demyx asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. The criminal merely shrugged to the best of his ability, blinking and staring at nothing without really seeing.

"On that girl's back porch, Megara's, you said that maybe that was why you became a detective." One slim, bare foot scrapped against the floor, its movement slow and meticulous. "I'm curious. Your personality doesn't fit into the role of a detective."

The blond laughed a little at that, nervously rubbing at his neck. "Yeah. I guess you're right about that." With a sigh, Demyx let his eyes skim over the other—all the way from the tips of his toes to the deeply set blue of his eyes. He saw the light bruises and scrapes from Riku, and the too-long pajamas that hung off of his frame in pools. And he decided that it wouldn't hurt him to tell him. He trusted Zexion, despite the things he had done in the past. And when you trust someone, you're supposed to be able to tell them anything, aren't you? Demyx had always thought so. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes." Zexion mumbled, his brow furrowing beneath his fringe. "I suppose I do." And he really did want to know. He hadn't even realized it before, but the curiosity was eating at him. He wanted to know what happened, because…it was _Demyx_, the one person that just didn't make any sense. He was missing so many pieces of the puzzle that was Demyx that any piece of information could help him put him together.

"Okay." Demyx said simply, resting his head against the bars. "I'll tell you." He took a deep breath, swallowing the lump deep within his throat. "I was eleven years old, and I heard my mother crying."

"_Please, please…just don't hurt him." She was sobbing. As a child, I had only ever heard my mother cry once or twice, and I couldn't stand the sound. So I crawled out from inside my sleeping bag—my bed ever since I outgrew my crib—and tiptoed down the hall. The door to my parent's room was cracked open, the light stretching out into the hall and lighting it up. _

_I looked through the crack, and I didn't really understand. My mother was on the bed, crying, duct tape held her wrists together. And there was a man standing over her; he had a gun pointing at her head, but she wasn't looking at him at all. I was confused. I knew that we didn't live in a very safe city—Atlantica was full of criminals, and it still is—but no one had ever bothered to break in before. We didn't have any money._

"_Please…we'll give you whatever you want. Just please don't ki—"_

"_Shut the hell up! You think you can steal from me? Huh? I'll show you what the hell it means to steal from me!" I heard a smack from inside the room, the sound that you hear when someone hits someone else. And I didn't know who that voice belonged too, and all I could see was my mother and that man standing over her. I couldn't see my father, or the man who had said anything._

_So I opened the door just a little more, because I didn't know what was going on. I could see the rest of the bed and my father's nightstand with his reading glasses skewed across its surface , but…I couldn't see anymore. So I pushed the door just a little more, and my mom's eyes widened. She just kept shaking her head, looking straight at me. The man over her noticed, and smiled. _

"_Well, would you look what we have here." And mom started screaming. _

"_Run away, Demyx! Just run away!" __But, by the time I noticed what was happening, the door was wide open and the man had my wrist. He dragged me into the room, and put me on the bed with my mother. And I could see everything._

_My father was in the corner of the room, another man over him. He had…bruises all over his face. And blood. There was so much blood. The man above him smiled at me, letting my father go and stalking over to me. He touched my face and ruffled my hair._

"_Don't you dare touch him!" My mother screamed, grabbing me with her bound wrists and pulling me to her side. My dad didn't say anything at all; I don't think he could. "It's going to be okay, Demy. I love you. Shh, shh, everything's going to be okay." My mom cooed, still crying._

_And I was ripped away again, like a rag doll. The man, the one who had held the gun to my mom, grabbed me under my arms and held me up like a toddler—I was a small child. "How cute." He breathed from barely an inch away. His breath stank and made me curl up my nose. I was so confused; I didn't even try to get away._

"_Kill him." The other said, and I started kicking at the one who held me because I didn't want to die. And I understood that. _

_The one who held me sat me on the edge of the bed, close to my mother, his eyes wide as he looked at me. And my mother was shrieking 'No, no, no! He didn't do anything! Let him _go_!'_

"_Hey, man, wouldn't it be better if we…left the kid?" My mother quieted at that, watching the man above the two of us, his gun held to the side. _

"_What? Are you saying that we should _leave _the child? How are these people supposed to learn if we let their offspring live? They need to _know_ what really happens when you steal from me!"_

_The other man held his hands up, like he was surrendering. "Well, yeah, man, yeah. I get that, but…wouldn't it be worse to leave the kid? You know? He'll never forget you."_

_And then the crazy one that ranted about stealing and learning smiled, showing off his yellowed teeth. "Yes…I think you're right. That would be so much worse. He should live."_

"After that, they locked me in my parent's closet. I stayed in that closet for a week before the police came. Apparently, the school had been calling because I wasn't showing up to class. They had eventually called the police after they couldn't get ahold of anyone on the phone. I was dehydrated and starving. And I couldn't talk to anyone.

"I just felt like everything was my fault, you know? Maybe if I hadn't opened the door I could have called the police, and my parents wouldn't have died. I didn't even _recognize_ the bodies after it was all over. They were just so cut up. Especially mom. She was missing some toes…and her eyes; her eyes were gone…" The blond trailed off, eyes glistening with unshed tears. It was painful to remember what had happened. While he was in the closet, he had heard so many screams. Terrifying, agonizing screams. And he still didn't know what had really happened. His parents weren't thieves, so why? Why had they been accused of stealing? "They never found them, the ones who killed my parents. It's like they were there, and then they were just gone..."

Demyx jumped as Zexion grabbed one of his hands with both of his, cradling it and pulling it through the bars; he hadn't even realized that the other had moved. The younger didn't say anything as he lay down across the floor, resting his head atop their mingling hands and closing his saddened eyes. And Demyx didn't say anything.

He just let the other sleep, their hands still conjoined.

**K3YBLAD3**

"What's the damage?"

Larxene looked up from her clipboard with her electric eyes, crossing her legs as those orbs of hers land on the redhead. "There's hardly any, really. I mean, the guy fell down some stairs and took a bit of a beating, but other than that he's perfectly healthy. His Tox Screen came back a few minutes ago. Apparently, the guy got hit with a lethal dosage of Xanax before he died."

"English, Larx. English." Axel voiced, leaning over Auron's dead body, gray in death. "I'm not exactly a mortician, you know."

The lithe blond rolled her eyes, setting the clipboard off to the side. She was a member of this team simply because it was easy. Leon left her alone and let her do her job. And that's more or less everything she wanted. "Xanax is a minor tranquilizer. There's a puncture wound in his neck, which is where it entered his body. I'm assuming that it slowed his movements down at first, making it impossible for him to break his fall, and then shut down his heart within minutes. He probably didn't feel very much before he died."

"That's good, at least." Axel shrugged, watching the body with a morbid fascination, those acidic eyes of his skimming the exposed innards. "Do you think Zexion could have done this?"

"Doubtful." Larxene mumbled, swirling a blond strand of hair around one slender finger. "But entirely possible." She shrugged.

"Demyx isn't going to want to hear that." The redhead exhaled, letting his breath slowly drain out. "Yeah, well, if that's all you've got, I guess I'll get going." He pushed away from the body, stretching his lanky arms out above his head.

"Oh, Axel, one more thing before you go." Larxene practically sang, a rather cunning smile stretched across her pink lips.

The redhead stopped at the door, his hand barely touching the knob. "What is it?"

And, if it was at all possible, that smile grew.

"Auron's words are behind his right ear."

**K3YBLAD3**

Demyx awoke to the sound of the jailhouse door opening, the first streams of sunlight blending in to the room's artificial lighting—a truly blinding concoction. With blue eyes squinted, he looked upon the short statured brunette making his way inside. Sora slid the door closed behind him once he'd passed through the doorway and smiled sincerely at the blond, seeing that he was awake. He nodded a quick hello with a half wave and then turned his gaze to Zexion, eyes sparking in confusion at the sight.

The criminal hadn't moved an inch during the night and was still curled up like a child on the chilled ground, his head resting half-hazardly across his hands, still entwined with one of Demyx's own. The young man was looked a bit worse-for-ware, the long pajama bottoms covering all but his toes and a light cascade of bruises dotting his thin arms, a much darker bruise forming along the side of his neck. Sora shook his head, shuddering inwardly. This was what Riku had done, and he was absolutely appalled by it. Zexion may have been a criminal—and he still was one—but that didn't mean that this was okay.

Zexion was smaller than Riku was, and weaker. It's not like he was really a threat of any kind. Even if he did try to resist arrest, he couldn't cause any real damage. He wouldn't have the stamina to run away. And, from what he had been told, Riku had arrested the other while he was still in bed; he didn't even have a clue what was going on. There was no reason for him to be so outright violent with the other, even if Riku did hate him.

There just wasn't any real reason for it.

"Hey." Demyx managed, his voice hoarse and low, as he tried to work out the crick in his neck without moving his hand so he wouldn't disturb Zexion. "Is there any news?" He asked. Abruptly, Sora trained his innocent blue eyes on him, looking away from the criminal.

The brunette smiled, leaning down so that he was nearly squatting. "Yeah. Axel talked with Larxene this morning. She found Auron's words sometime late last night after everyone had already shut down and gone back to the hotel, so Zexion's more or less of the hook. Riku and Leon don't really want to eliminate him as a suspect, though. He's off the case until we're sure that he didn't do it."

"He didn't." Demyx cut in, pushing his hair back with his free hand. When Sora didn't say anything else, he turned his gaze to the slate-haired youth still resting behind the bars. He hadn't even twitched since Sora's arrival, just like he hadn't through the night. He hadn't loosened his grip on him either. If anything, it had tightened as the hours had worn on, trapped beneath his lean face and mop of unbrushed hair. "What about Hollow Bastion?" He asked without bothering to turn away from the accused. "If everyone's pretty sure that he didn't do it, then there's no reason for him to get sent back, right? I mean, he didn't do anything wrong; he shouldn't be punished for something he didn't even do."

Sora smiled a little wider, watching Demyx's unintentional display of affection. Riku and Leon just didn't see what he saw. Zexion was good for Demyx, all pasts aside. And he thought that Demyx was good for Zexion too. They needed each other, just like plants need water; they just hadn't realized it yet. "Axel talked to Leon earlier—or yelled at, whichever you prefer. Zexion's staying for the time being. The guy that's on his way is going to fill in as his new guard."

The blond nodded. "So…can Zexion leave now? If he's been more or less cleared, then there's no reason for him to stay locked up."

"Right." The behavioral specialist stood up and pulled a ring of keys out of his back pocket, fiddling with them for a moment before sticking one into the lock and opening the cell, the sickening sound of metal sliding as it opened. Zexion stirred, scrunching his eyes together before opening them completely and sitting up, allowing Demyx to retract his hand through the bars. "Good morning, Zexion."

The criminal blinked up at the brunette, yawning widely into his hands. His body ached from head to toe, and he was still tired despite the fact that he had slept well through the night. It was as if his entire body was drained, mentally and physically. "Morning."

"I bring keys." Sora jingled them in his hands before bending down to the other's level and holding out his hand for his wrists. Dutifully, Zexion held them up, letting the other set him free with a _clink_, the handcuffs falling to the ground with a sound that made them all cringe a bit. "Anyway, like I was telling Demyx, you're off the case for the time being. It should only be for the rest of today and maybe some of tomorrow, though—you know, just until Leon and Riku are completely convinced that you're innocent. Axel is waiting outside to take the two of you back to the hotel."

"Both of us?" Demyx's eyebrows furrowed as he stood, stretching his arms up above his head and popping his sore neck. "You mean I'm off the case too?"

"No; it's nothing like that." The brunette cut in, tucking the keys back into his pocket and facing toward the blond. "Leon has decided that you're biased when it comes to Zexion's involvement—which you kind of are—so he thinks it would be for the best if you take the day off as well." He shrugged. "Besides, I don't think it would be so bad if you went and got some sleep. The two of you look like you need it."

Demyx sighed, inclined to agree. He didn't need to look in a mirror to know that his eyes were outlined by shadows, his face beginning to show signs of premature lines. He was tired. Simply tired. Of course, he knew he wasn't the only one. If it was even possible, Zexion looked worse off than he did. His face was tilted downwards to the floor, not even seeming to care that he was essentially being let out of prison. His eyelids were drooping over his blue orbs, glazed from sleep, and he hadn't even bothered to pick himself up from the floor. It seemed as though it would just take too much energy.

"Yeah, okay. I understand." The blond mumbled, watching as Zexion finally decided to stand, his movements slow and unsteady. The criminal more or less staggered out of the cell, coming up to stand beside the detective, his bare feet pattering across the floor. "Lead the way, Sora."

The brunette nodded his head, making his way outside, the others following along behind him side by side. And he couldn't help but smile, because even though the others didn't quite see it yet, he was sure.

The two of them really needed each other.

**K3YBLAD3**

She was beautiful. She had always been beautiful. In high school, everyone wanted her. The boys literally fawned over her, following her from class to class and inviting her out for fancy one-on-one dinners. Her father had been thrilled at the attention that she was given, because he always felt like he couldn't quite make up for the fact that her mother had died right after her birth. After all, he couldn't be both parents.

No one could.

But he tried. He really did try to give her everything she ever wanted. He treated her like his little princess, teaching her everything she would ever need to know. She grew up sweet and happy, just like any princess should. She graduated from high school at the top of her class and went on to college like she was supposed to. But that just wasn't for her. She didn't want to waste her life away studying just like any old girl. No, she wanted to be a dancer.

And a dancer she was.

After her first semester in college, she met a boy. A truly wonderful boy who thought the world of her. He encouraged her to follow her dreams, and follow them she did. They moved to Radiant Garden and married within the year. She took up a job as a dancer at the local casino and he did what he always did, scavenged for the odd jobs that made him happy. Together, they were the perfect couple—utterly absorbed in one another and hopelessly in love. Life was absolutely perfect.

But something was missing. Something was always missing from their perfect little world; they were incomplete.

They wanted to raise a family of their own, a perfect set of kids to join them in their picture frames. But Radiant Garden was not the ideal place to raise a family. The city itself was absolutely gorgeous. Shrubs and little trees broke up the sidewalks, and parks and playgrounds of the finest quality were on nearly every street corner. Restaurants that served cuisines of the highest caliber were littered about, quaint little boutiques flanking them on all sides. Radiant Garden was nearly perfect, and if they had wanted things to stay the way they were, it would have been ideal. But Radiant Garden was packed with people all year round, both tourists and residents coming and going as they pleased. There simply wasn't enough space for them to start a family. They didn't have the money required to move to the higher end of the city, where each home had nearly an acre in between, hundred year old trees towering over each and every house.

So they found somewhere else. The ideal place to start a family.

She transferred to another casino under the same name and resumed her dancing, while her perfect husband kept their newly bought house in order while he wasn't working, the acres and acres of luscious grass stretching on and on as if it was ready for little feet to pitter-patter across it. They were ready to fill in the missing pieces to their lives: children. Everything was seamless, and they were perfectly happy. She didn't regret their decision to move to Twilight Town and she doubted that she ever would.

Though, maybe she would have rethought it a bit if she knew just how things were going to end, her perfect life splitting apart at the seams.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Ah, damn it, man." Axel sighed heavily, his green eyes glazing over in just the slightest way as he stared upon the body before him. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in the past two days, food was more or less out of the question, and he hadn't even had a chance to get back to the office after dropping Demyx and Zexion off at the hotel before Riku was calling him about a body dump. Since when was he the only team member with a car?

The redhead shook his head, mostly to himself, and moved farther into the alley way, latex gloves coating his skin with a snap. He crouched over the lithe corpse before him—the body of a woman who probably hadn't even hit her twenty-fifth birthday yet—and, just as he had suspected, there were words carved across her. Yet strangely, there was no blood anywhere. The poor girl had definitely been dumped.

With another sigh, he pulled himself up, leaning his back against the grime-caked walls. The girl was beautiful, all made up in traditional Arabian princess garb, her dark skin and silky hair contrasting drastically with the dulled concrete. He blinked at her, acidic green eyes skimming her unblemished, exposed skin. And he didn't know. He had absolutely no idea where someone like her could have come from.

"Just what happened to you, girlie?" Axel asked the corpse. And, just as he had predicted, she didn't answer.

And she never would.

* * *

**A/N: Was that a sort of fluffy Demyx x Zexion moment at the end of the first section? Now, how did that happen...?**

**Anyway, I feel like this chapter was a little choppy, and that it rambled a bit too much in some places, but I'm happy enough with it. If I ever get the time, I might come back a re-write some things just so they flow a bit better. **

**Production: Hopefully, I'll be updating three times this month, this chapter being the first of those updates. I have exams later on this month, though, so I may only have the chance to update twice. Be on the lookout anyway. **

**Holiday Fics: Didn't happen. _Color Psychology _will probably show up at some point later in the year once this story is completed, and _I'll Make You Fly _won't be making an appearance until I'm sure that I can write it correctly (because my style as it is now doesn't portray it in the way I want it to).**

**Quiz Winner(s): Do you really think I'm going to tell you? XD**

**Quiz: Two questions this time- 1. Who was killed in this chapter? (should be easy) 2. Where did the inspiration for Demyx's past come from? It doesn't follow along with it exactly, but the basic make-up of it is more or less the same.**

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^^**


	13. Decisive Pumpkin

**Second update of the month! Wooh~**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~!**

**Also, this chapter, like the last, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know! **

**Enjoy! ^^**

* * *

"So…what do we have? And—so help me Buddha— if any one of you say nothing, I will chargrill your _soul_ and _eat_ it. Do I make myself clear?" Axel glared at the team from the head of the table, his acidic green eyes scanning across each and every one of them. They'd been at this for hours, honestly, and Axel was just plain sick of it. They were supposed to be world-renowned, yet they couldn't catch one damn guy. Seriously? So far, they had managed to come up with less than an average police force. What good was that doing them? People were still dying left and right and, to put it bluntly, Axel hated to lose. And at this point, he was _losing_ to your common every day sociopath. They all were. And he couldn't stand it.

He sighed, running one bone-jutting hand through his red hair. Everyone was just staring at him, completely at a loss. At this rate, his job would turn into the meetings he had with the child services lady when he was still in high school. They were one in the same at this point. He was the only one talking, eyes were looking at him like lost little guppies, and both happened to be entirely pointless. Why didn't he take up pyro mechanics again? "Fine then; let's just start from the top. Sora, start us off."

The brunette stood as the redhead slunk back into his chair, a series of folders in hand. "Okay. So far, the victims of this unknown suspect have included seven males and five females. The females have ranged from ages in the late teens to early thirties, ranging wildly in both physical attributes and history. The males are much the same, their ages and lifestyles entirely different. The only thing that really stands out is the fact that males in higher positions have been killed, starting with Mickey and ending with Auron. Th—"

"I'm still not convinced that Zexion didn't kill Auron; for the sake of accuracy, it would be best to remove his murder from the list." Leon interrupted clicking his pen in and out in that annoying way of his before scribbling some notes on the notebook in front of him. Riku nodded his affirmative from his place beside the smaller brunette, barely even noticing the slight twitch of his fingers around his folders.

The redhead scoffed, crossing his arms tensely. "Yeah, sure. Let's completely rule out the fact that we have a serial killer loose in the middle of Twilight Town, killing at least one person _a day_, and blame the sickly lookin' munchkin that trails Dem around like a puppy. Sounds like a_ brilliant_ plan." Leon's eyes narrowed at his subordinate, his lips set into a thin, irritated line.

"Axel," he reprimanded, "it is perfectly logical that Schewyer snuck out of that hotel room. Just because Demyx believes him, doesn't not mean that he is trustworthy. You know as well as I do how irresponsible that is."

Acidic eyes rolled. "It's completely irresponsible to blame someone more or less based upon hating them too, but you and Riku don't seem to be complaining too much. I mean, come on, the guy had words _etched _behind his fuckin' _ear _for Christ's sake! I can totally see Zexion killin' somebody—he's done it before—but actually touching someone else's skin like that? It's painfully obvious that the dude _loathes _physical contact. You know it, I know it, we all know it! Just get off your high horse and admit that you two were wrong already!"

"Don't be like Demyx, Axel. Don't underestimate a killer. He's murdered in cold blood before for less; who's to say that he didn't do it again?" Riku scoffed, his nostrils flaring, fists clenched tightly on the table's smooth surface. "Besides, the words mean nothing. Schewyer said it himself—he read the first book. He knew which keyblade was next; he could have carved it there just as easily as anyone else."

Axel leaned forward on the extreme edge of his chair, his lips curling ferally, like a fox about to snare its first kill of the night. "_Don't be like Demyx_? What the hell do you mean by that? _Personally_, I think it would be great if we were all a little more like Demyx. At least he knows when he's supposed to admit his own fuckin' mistakes. And hey, he's compliant as fuck. We might actually be doing our jobs instead of fighting over your damn grudges. That'd be nice, wouldn't it? Catching the _real _killer and saving some people? I think it's an absolutely novel idea, don't you?" The detective smirked at the team's profiler, his tone mockingly sweet.

"Yes, sure. That's just great. Let's be just like _Demyx_! Perfectly willing to sleep next to a serial killer and trust them with our lives. Let's give the guy the benefit of the doubt and take him off the suspects list when the guy that was killed was the one appointed to watch him. Oh, and hey! When it's all over, let's put him out on the streets because that's totally safe! Let's save some lives just so we can kill some later. Won't that be fantastic?" Riku shot right back, angered eyes glaring full force at his scrawny coworker.

"What's wrong with trusting people every once in a while? And trusting Demyx! He's not the brightest crayon in the box, but he certainly tries the hardest! Do you honestly think that he would just risk everything for this? Have you even taken the chance to get to know him? I don't know about you, but Demyx is my friend. I trust him to know what the hell he's doing!"

"Well, excuse me for having enough sense to decide for myself!" The silverette ridiculed, his tone mocking as his eyes rolled.

"Oh, you're not fuc—"

"That's **ENOUGH**!" Larxene stood from her place at the table, her chair sliding back against the carpeting and rocking dangerously. Her nostrils flared as she looked between them, electric eyes glaring. "Are we done?" She demanded with her hands resting on her hips as she stood up a little straighter, elongating her slight frame. At the boys resigned nods, she sat, pulling her seat back to the table a bit too roughly. "Good. Now that that's settled, I'm going to say this one time and one time only—Auron stays on the victims list. Leon, you may be in charge of me when it comes to this team, but you do not pay my paychecks. Firecrotch is right, as much as I hate to admit it, and Auron's body has some valuable information that the others don't necessarily have. Xanax is not the easiest thing to come by, and I highly doubt that Zexion just happened to have some on his person—you all know as well as I do that he's been watched every day since he got here. Even with a little bit of time, he wouldn't have been able to come up with that kind of drug.

"Logically, that means that Auron was killed by our serial killer and that he has access to prescription drugs. And I don't know about you guys, but with the kind of carvings this sucker's been doing, I'm thinking he's a doctor of some kind. Most likely a surgeon or someone who's had experience in cutting skin. Maybe even a butcher with anxiety problems. You never know, but it's sure as hell more than what we've got." The lithe blonde crossed her legs beneath the table, mouth setting into a concentrated line as if daring for the others to defy her logic.

"Then let's start there." Sora genuinely smiled at her, his innocent blue eyes wide. He hated fighting and it didn't really matter which side he agreed with. There was no point in it; it didn't fix anything. If anything, it just made everything that much worse. And he couldn't really deal with worse at this point.

**K3YBLAD3**

Riku's lips held a thin line as he walked just slightly behind Sora. He was tired, irritated, and simply unhappy. They just didn't understand; they were all brainwashed by that leech and Demyx's stupidity. How had this all happened? At first, it was just the team. They caught killers. They put them in jail. They kept them in jail. And then Demyx came along. He was unprofessional in a way that was unacceptable, and he was far too childish and naïve with his trust for his job. They have a little bit of a problem and what does he do? He convinces the boss to let him bring in a convicted serial killer with some deal that will let him out of jail for good.

At least it hadn't been quite so bad in the beginning. Everyone else was weary of the criminal too; it wasn't just he and Leon that had a problem with him. They all kept a close eye on him. But that had all changed. Seemingly overnight, he and Leon had become the bad guys. That nasty little leech had wrapped the rest of them around his little fingers, and there was no coming back. So what if it wasn't exactly logical that he had been the one to kill Auron? It was possible—if not entirely probable—and he didn't think that he should be cleared just yet. He had a bad feeling about Schewyer that left a nasty taste in his mouth; he wouldn't trust him for the world.

And it sickened him that the others willingly defended him.

He could understand with Demyx. The man was childish and didn't entirely understand what it meant for someone to kill someone else. He was nothing but a rookie that hadn't quite learned the ropes, and he hated him to an extent because of that. But his undeniable stupidity was understandable. The others, however? What were they thinking? Axel wasn't a rookie by any means; he completely understood the system, yet he was fighting him because of that criminal? And Larxene had even taken his side. She didn't care about anyone at all, but she knew his case inside and out. She knew what he had done to the fullest extent. Did she just forget all about that? Then there was Roxas. Roxas—the too-young computer specialist that _obviously _didn't understand a damn thing— was practically a fan boy! It was absolutely disgusting to watch the way he coddled and idealized that murderer. It literally made him want to ring his scrawny little neck. And, of course, there was Sora too.

Sora the brunette that he had watched over since he'd joined their organization. Sora the person that never wanted to see anyone hurt. Sora the blue-eyed innocent that welcomed Demyx with open arms. Sora the one who was walking right in front of him, his paces light and crisp against the sterile tile. The one who used to look at him with trust, yet now sometimes looked at him like he was a monster.

And it was all because of that criminal. All of this was his fault and his alone.

"This is it." Riku stopped with his body parallel to Sora's. The brunette's blue eyes were trained on the grayish door before them, the words Xehanort Zeel written across the nameplate in large, bold letters. "Do you think we should knock or just walk in? The receptionist did say that she would tell him that we were coming, right?"

The older of the two shrugged, his lips still set in that same line as he knocked on the door, the wood knocking against his knuckles in a way that was almost painful. "Come on in. The door isn't locked." Came a hurried voice through the door. The two coworkers glanced at each other briefly before Riku pushed open the door and slid inside after Sora. The office wasn't small by any means. The walls were lined with shelves that held books from the evolution of human beings to the proper way to dissect a carnivorous ape. There were cabinets of all shapes and sizes tucked into the room's corners, each most likely holding records upon records of the hospital's previous finances. And in the very center of the room sat a desk made of the finest mahogany, cluttered with papers and a small, portable computer perched atop its edge. The white haired man behind it smiled at them, motioning them forward with his hands as he leaned back in his leather chair. "What can I do for you?" He asked, a genuine smile curving his lips.

Sora cleared his throat before stepping forward, his hands held nervously behind his back. "It's good to see you again, sir. As I'm sure you know, we're here with the team of detectives investigating the murders that have been committed in Twilight Town. And, as it currently stands, the evidence has led us to believe that the killer may have ties to this hospital."

One white eyebrow rose curiously. "You believe that one of my employees may have committed these terrible crimes? I can assure you that they haven't. I've personally checked out them all; it is required that I do history checks on all my employees."

"We're aware of that, sir, but we believe that it would best if we checked them out for ourselves, just to be sure." The brunette said, taking a step forward.

Xehanort sighed, cracking his knuckles against one another. "Well, if that's the case, then you are to have the hospital's full cooperation. I'll give you access to anything you may need within reason."

"In that case, we'll be needing a copy of all your employee files from the past six months, along with a list of patients that have been seen in that time as well." Riku cut in, his arms crossed over his chest.

"That can be arranged." The hospital owner shot him a pleased smile, pulling out a notepad and furiously jotting down some notes before handing it to Sora. "Give this to my receptionist and she should give you exactly what you need. Ms. Gainsborough is truly wonderful at her job; she should have you on your way in no time at all. Let me know if you find something concerning any of my employees."

"Thank you. We really appreciate the hospital's cooperation in this." Sora smiled at the man, leaning over to shake his hand before following Riku back out into the hall.

**K3YBLAD3**

The store bell rang, the jingling of bells moving through the store and reaching all the way to the back room. "Just a minute!" Sally yelled, leaning precariously over a manikin with her arms loaded down with cloths and fabrics of all colors. Her little feet slipped out from under her as she tried to place just one more thread, knocking her down with her armload in two. She scowled a bit, twisting her lips before standing and brushing off her gray dress. Really, her shop was so cluttered that it was a wonder that she ever managed to get anything done.

With a dainty sigh and a lightly placed smile, she made her way into the main area of her shop. The smile widened just a bit as she spotted her customer. "Ah, it's good to see you again. How is everything?" She asked as she came closer, slipping a few strands of her burgundy hair behind her lithe ears.

"Business as usual, my dear. You know how it is." He smiled at her, eyes crinkling around the edges before his tone sobered. "Did you hear about what happened to the Heart family's youngest little girl? Apparently, the poor dear was so frightened that she hasn't spoken a word since the accident."

Sally shook her head sadly. "The poor girl. I have a bad feeling about these murders; I really do. I've even taken to closing my shop early and having my husband come and get me from the next town over. Of course, a man like you probably thinks that I'm silly worrying so much."

"You're not silly at all. It's only natural to worry about your own safety. Better safe than sorry, as they say."

"I suppose you're right." Sally mumbled, exhaling through her nose. She didn't like to speak about the murders. They always seemed to put her on edge, and it seemed as if no one was really safe from the mad man that didn't seem to have any boundaries. "But let's speak about something a bit more pleasant. What do you need? You're a busy man, after all."

He nodded. "Of course, of course. I nearly forgot. I need a stitch replaced in one of my coats." He handed her a light gray suit jacket covered in plastic, the hanger a bit bent. Setting it on the counter, Sally carefully removed the wrapping and examined it, ghosting her fingers over the fine silk. Ah, how she loved working with such fine fabrics.

"It looks like it's just a small split in the seams. I could have this fixed up in just a moment or two, if you're willing to wait." She looked at him hopefully and, at his light nod, began to work, pulling at the threads with nimble fingers and pulling out one of her many kits, complete with a wide variety of sewing equipment. He didn't seem to mind having to wait for her; he simply took a seat in one of the empty chairs lying about, though she did take notice that he took the one in the far corner, the one farthest away from the street and hidden by the light afternoon shadows.

She didn't really mind. He was a curious individual, though always so nice and well respected. He was practically their town's savior, and she knew that these murders must really be taking a toll on him. After all, he was an active member of the community, despite his long work hours. He helped in the gardens and the food banks for the hungry. He always took time out of his day to help those in need, and he didn't even mind making speeches for the local school system. If anything, he seemed happy to tell them all about his job and the things that they could do to help their community. Everyone just…loved him. He was just one of those people that could do no wrong.

With a light smile and one last tug of the needle in her hand, she held the jacket up and turned towards him. "Your jacket's all ready. I told you it wouldn't take long." And as playful as that tone was, it was still just as filled with darkness as it had been before.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Are you okay?"

One slightly glazed blue eye turned to him, narrowing in just the slightest way before turning back towards the window. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

On the closest bed, the blond shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning forward. He didn't bother to hide the fact that he was staring, sizing the younger up and analyzing him. Zexion didn't look okay. He looked tired and broken down, his body stiff against the window frame. What little bit of an improvement there was had seemingly disappeared. His skin was back to that same sickly pale color it had been before, and those eye of his just didn't seem to care. It was like he'd never left the prison. The last few nights had taken everything out of him and it just wasn't coming back.

"Are you mad?" Demyx finally asked, his voice shallow and whispered as if he was terrified of offending the person who was breaking right before his eyes. He was worried. The other hadn't really moved since they had gotten back hours before. He just walked in, bathed, changed, and went to the window. And he was just staring—staring at absolutely nothing, those eyes of his not really looking at anything.

"About what?" The criminal replied, returning his gaze to the window. He was tired, but sleep just wouldn't come to him. He had too many things to worry about. Someone else was going to die today; he knew that. Someone else's life was going to end, and he was no closer to finding the killer than he had been before. He wasn't finding anything. He'd read the book; he had. He'd read it from front to back, but he hadn't found anything that could help them. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. "What do I have to be mad about?"

The older sighed, mostly to himself. "I don't know. A lot of things, I guess. Being off the case for a while because they don't believe you. What Riku did. They way Leon and Riku treat you."

"Why?" One slate eyebrow rose as Zexion turned towards the blond, leaning his side against the window's chilled glass.

"Huh?" Demyx cocked his head to the side, dirty blond brows furrowing.

"Why would I be mad about those things?" The younger asked, his voice as emotionless and nonchalant as ever even as the cold began to seep in through one of his borrowed tops.

"Because they're wrong?" Demyx tried, watching the slate-haired criminal's blank face. It was like he really didn't care about anything. Everything he'd become since leaving that prison had just disappeared. Gone like it had never been there in the first place. "Because it's wrong? Because it isn't right for anyone to treat you like that? Innocent until proven guilty. That's what this country is based on, isn't it? They can't prove that you did anything. They treat you like you're worse than dirt. And then Riku…he did _that_, which isn't even legal and it's like you don't even care."

Zexion sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a way that was nearly protective. "It seems like I don't care simply because I don't. Innocent until proven guilty? I've already been proven guilty, Demyx, unless you've forgotten. I can understand Leon and Riku's hostility towards me. I've killed people before, so it isn't surprising that I would be their first thought when it came to Auron. It's all perfectly understandable."

"It shouldn't be." The blond grumbled. "You shouldn't have to understand it, because it shouldn't be like that. Just because you did something when you were a little kid—"

"I understood what I was doing. I knew from the very beginning that what I was doing was wrong, yet I still did it. It was my mistake and I'm paying the consequences for it. My age at the time means absolutely nothing." Deeply set blue eyes narrowed dangerously. How dare he. How dare he try to make it sound like he didn't know what he was doing. He had known from the very beginning. He was not some naïve little child that couldn't think for himself.

"Yes it does. Age means everything, Zexion." Demyx stood, taking a step closer and squaring his shoulders. He didn't really want to fight with the other, especially about something like this, but he really didn't understand. He was just a kid. No matter what he told himself, he couldn't have fully understood what was happening, what he was doing. He couldn't have. "Children are impressionable. That's the first thing they teach you in training. Little things like relationships make them easy targets for predators. You understand that, right? And with your parents—the way they were towards you—it would've been easy for someone to take advantage of you."

"No." The word was sharp and angry. Clear and edged like a knife. "That's not what happened. I was a pawn; I realize that. But I was _not _taken advantage of. They wouldn't have…_He _wouldn't have done that. And what do my parents have to do with anything? They were never around. They didn't have any control over me. They didn't _do _anything to me."

"That's exactly my point! They were never around; they didn't care. And that guy—he knew that! He took advantage of the fact that you didn't have any parents in your life! Don't you see that? You idealized that guy like he was your father!" The blond grabbed a gaunt wrist, tugging the smaller towards him, oceanic orbs clouded. Did he really not see it? He was a genius, a prodigy and he really couldn't see that this wasn't all his fault?

"That's not what happened!" The criminal tugged at his arms angrily, staring up at the blond above him with enraged eyes. "Lexaeus was just a friend! I never once thought of him like a father! I didn't idealize him!"

"Then tell me something, Zexion. Tell me this and I'll leave you alone." The blond growled, pushing the other against the window with surprising force. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to touch him; he wasn't supposed to hurt him. He just had to make him understand. "Lexaeus came to you when you were twelve. That's what the report says. He was the first one to make contact with you. He's the one who gave you missions. He's the one who told you who to kill and when to kill them. So, why? Why was he the very last person that you ratted out? Why was he the one that you protected until the very end? Why him, Zexion? What made him so special? If you knew what you were doing, then you knew that he was just as guilty. But you protected him until you couldn't. Why? Why risk having a needle stuck in your arm for this guy? Why, Zexion, why? Tell me that. And then tell me that you didn't care."

Zexion shook his head, slate locks slapping against his cheeks, his eyes wide. "Stop it, Demyx. Just stop." Demyx tightened his hold, unbothered by the pleading in the other's tone. He had to understand. He had to understand that everything wasn't his fault, that he was just a little kid. His parents abandoned him; he needed someone to latch onto. And Lexaeus knew that. He knew that he was vulnerable, and he played on that fact. Whether Zexion knew what he was doing or not didn't even matter. He was just a scared little kid, all alone in the world with no one to turn to.

"Not until you understand…I'm not stopping until you understand." The blond mumbled, pressing their foreheads together and taking a shaking breath, his voice soft and low even though he didn't relax his grip on the younger's boney arms.

And they just stared at one another, oceanic blue cutting through twin blue pools, both briefly exposed. After a moment, Demyx's eyes softened, shocked and hurt by the amount of terror hidden in those visible pools. What was he doing? What on earth was he doing? He had never been like this. He had never been violent when he wanted something. He had gotten angry, and right now in this one moment, holding him against his will, he was just as bad as Riku, if not even worse. Riku had bruised him and accused him of something that he didn't do; he had hurt him physically. But he…he had gotten close enough to get inside the other's shell, yet all he did was hurt him in the end.

Zexion would never fully understand what had happened in his past. He was too young, too set in his denial. He was just a kid that wanted someone to care about him, and who was he to make him believe that the one person who ever treated him like a normal person was just taking advantage of him? He knew. Deep down, he would always know that he was just their pawn. But that didn't mean that Demyx had to dig it up. That didn't mean that he had to hurt him so much that he understood.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt him, even though that's all he seemed to do.

Sadly, Demyx ghosted their lips together, moving his chastely over the other's unresponsive pair as if he was trying to apologize. Zexion didn't even move as the blond freed his arms; he just stared with wide eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, the older pulled away, oceanic pools glazed and saddened. He knew what he had to do, even if he didn't want to do it. "This…this didn't happen, okay?" And the other nodded slowly, allowing himself to slide down the wall until he was seated on the floor, his arms held out by his sides like a broken puppet.

No. It didn't happen.

After all, who was he to deny the one person who obviously knew more about him than he did?

* * *

**A/N: Bleh~ I don't really like how this chapter turned out. It came out a bit shorter than I wanted it to, and the characters just seem a bit off to me. Zexion came off a bit _too _vulnerable there towards the end, and Demyx went a little nutty. Though I guess it was sort of necessary...and look! They kissed again! That has to count for something, right?**

**Oh, and I realize that Riku has some deep set denial issues. Seriously. **

**Production: The last update of the month should come sometime late next week or early the week after, but I'm not making any promises. Next week is exams and birthday parties for a couple of friends, so I should be pretty busy. Also, it might come out even shorter than this chapter (while writing the plot line to this, some chapters have barely anything happen while others are more or less loaded, so I'm having to move some things around).**

**Quiz Winner(s): No one knew both of the answers to the last quiz. Shadow of a Fallen Angel, AquaIllusion, we'llmakeyoufuckinsick, XxBloodTearxX, and Zemyx-AkuRoku answered the first correctly though, so many internet rainbow cookies for you! ^_^ (I apologize in advance if fanfiction eats your username from this list)**

**As for the inspiration for Demyx's past, it came from the premiere episode of Criminal Minds for Season Six and the last episode of Season Five, since they were a pair. The killer would kill the parents of children while the children watched through the closet doors. **

**Quiz: None this time. Though I would like to know what you thought about the way the characters have interacted so far and how the dialouge is coming along (since it's my weakness in most stories). Also, do you think Demyx made a huge mistake in this chapter, or possibly did something that might turn out better in the long run? **

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^^**


	14. Sleeping Lion

**Third and last update of the month. Author's note at the bottom as always.**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~!**

**Also, this chapter, like the last, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know! **

**Enjoy! ^^**

* * *

Selphie sighed, scrunching her eyebrows together and twisting the phone cord around her index finger in concern. "So she still hasn't said anything? Like nothing at all? She is okay, though, right?"

"_Yeah. She's okay. Not talking, but okay." _Kairi's voice whispered through the phone, probably trying to stay quiet in case her sister happened to be listening. _"Mom and dad are so worried, though. It's not like her to just…shut down like this, you know? She's always been quiet but she's never been like this."_

"Maybe you should just give it some time?" The light brunette suggested. "It has only been a few days. I'm sure she'll be fine once this has all settled down. Namine might not look it, but she's tough deep down. She's going to be fine. You shouldn't worry so much." She smiled a sweet smile even though no one could see, leaning against her kitchen counter and clicking her heels against the marble tile.

"_Yeah. I guess you're right. It's just…she's my little sister. I'm supposed to worry, aren't I?"_ Selphie nodded at Kairi's worried tone, frowning in just the slightest way. _"Hey, give me just a sec, 'kay?"_ Voices mumbled on the other side of the line—voices she recognized to belong to Kairi's parents. She sighed again, preparing herself for the inevitable. _"Hey Selphie, I've got to go; I'll see you at school tomorrow. Bye."_

"Buh-bye." Selphie mumbled as she heard a click from her phone. Stretching a bit after pushing her bangs away from her eyes, she replaced the phone on the receiver and yawned. She was used to this type of thing. Kairi was a great friend. Really she was. She was one of those people that was always there for her friends and would do just about anything in order to make them happy. But that didn't mean that she was without faults. She was oblivious at times, didn't always listen to all sides of a story before drawing a conclusion, and above all else she worried about her sister in a way that bordered on unhealthy.

Selphie could understand her concern. Namine was younger and had always been a bit different from the rest of them. She was fragile on the outside and headstrong on the inside. She and Kairi were more or less exact opposites. Where Kairi was loud and outspoken, Namine was quiet and compliant. She never seemed to care about her looks like Kairi did, even though she was possibly the prettier of the two siblings. She willingly played in the dirt and explored junk yards. She didn't care about boys or sun tanning or any of those normal teenage girl things like the rest of them did. She was just different.

And that was fine. Namine could be as different as she wanted to be. But just because she could didn't necessarily mean that she _should_. Of course, Selphie would never tell Kairi that; she'd most likely never talk to her again.

After the initial screaming, that is.

It didn't really matter what she thought about the girl anyway. They were merely acquaintances by definition and it wasn't like Selphie really had a problem with her. She just thought she was weird. There was nothing wrong with that. Really there wasn't.

Humming a bit and deciding not to worry about the Heart siblings any longer, Selphie's blue eyes settled on the clock above the stove, one light brown eyebrow rising. It was nearly five already and she hadn't seen Simba anywhere. Normally, he was already waiting at his bowl or rubbing his head against her ankles by now.

She dropped to her knees curiously, letting her skirt pool and ride up around her knees as she crawled across the kitchen's tiles, searching under every surface for her wayward cat. "Here kitty-kitty." She sang and repeated like a mantra, her voice high and worried. He had never run off before. He was just your typical fat and lazy housecat. He never disappeared. Sure, he went outside and played in her mother's potted plants—which annoyed her mother to no end—but he always came back in when she returned from school. Always.

So where was he?

"Simba? Here kitty-kitty! Mommy's home! And she has lots and lots of treats for you! Don't you want a treat, Simba?" She called, jumping to her feet and searching the rest of the house. She went upstairs to her bedroom and then downstairs into the basement. She checked the living room and all the hallways. She even checked the kitchen cabinets just in case her oblivious father happened to shut him up in one again—they'd lost him once or twice when he was a kitten that way.

But he wasn't there.

And she was worried.

"Mom, have you seen Simba? I can't find him anywhere." The girl's mother blinked at her, her lips twitching thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, sweetie; I haven't seen him since he went out this morning. Have you checked outside yet?" At Selphie's slight little headshake, the women waved her off, returning to her mystery novel.

With blue eyes wide, she slid outside. She walked along the cobblestone path and searched under the bushes. And then she saw blood. It was just a tiny rivulet of it, the darkened red contrasting with the lush green grass. But it worried her.

So she dropped to her knees and crawled through the bushes like she used to as a child. She scratched her face on a low branch, trying to slide under it too quickly. And just as she was thinking of turning around, she saw him. Her lovable pet cat, lying on his side, covered in blood.

He was just right there—right in front of her. His eyes were open and dulled. Dead. Gone. Never coming back. Her fingertips trembled as they ghosted over his stiff, matted fur, her bottom lip clutched tightly in between her teeth. And as her carefully painted nails slid over his back, she felt the ridges and she outlined the words.

Her cat—her precious little kitten—had words etched across his back.

And all she could do was pet his deadened head and cry.

**K3YBLAD3**

Leon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight off the migraine that was slowly spreading across his temples. He was not happy. The closest thing they had to a suspect was a drunkard that used to work at the hospital by the name of Jack Sparrow, and he had an airtight alibi for no less than six of the murders. They had searched through the hospital's employee records and come up with eight hopefuls. On some level, they all looked good for them, except they all had alibis for at least one of the murders. Jack Sparrow was literally their last hope. And they had nothing with him. They were back to square one.

They had no suspects and too many bodies.

"Yo, Leon?" The brunette narrowed his eyes, turning his gaze from the useless statements in his hands to one of the local cops. He recognized him immediately to be the one known as Xigbar due to his gaunt domineer and pulled-back hair. The cop smiled crookedly at the team leader, holding the doorknob loosely in one of his palms. "There's a 'lil girl out here that needs to talk to you about her dead cat."

One brown eyebrow rose incredulously before the eye underneath returned to the papers scattered about the desk. "Tell her to go home. We're looking for a serial killer, not someone who kills house pets." Leon scoffed.

"I don't think that's such a good idea." Xigbar grunted, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that demanded attention. "She says someone cut him up with somethin' sharp, like maybe a knife or somethin'. He's got words just like those bodies of yours." In one of the room's corners, Axel shifted, his interest peaked.

"Fine, then. Tell her I'll be with her in a minute." Leon growled, clenching his jaw.

"There's no need; I'll go talk with her." The redhead cut in, stretching his legs languidly as he stood. Axel watched his boss's brows furrow, but Leon nodded anyway, returning to his work like Xigbar had never come in at all. Thin lips smiled crookedly as the redhead shook his head, following the cop out into the hall. Leon was—and would probably always be—a little closed-minded when it came to his work. He was more of a straightforward thinker and expected everything to follow the books. What he didn't realize—or didn't care to realize—was that people aren't in the textbooks. They're unpredictable. Different.

And sometimes you have to think a little out of the box to get the desired result.

"Here you go. She's in there. She's a bit shaken up, but coherent enough." Xigbar rumbled, opening the door to one of the waiting areas and pushing Axel inside. The detective nodded at him as the door shut, turning his cat-like green eyes towards the lithe child sitting in a plush blue chair towards the center of the room.

She was small, a jutted bone structure outlining her frame beneath her school uniform and high heeled shoes. She watched him move towards her with tearstained cheeks, her blue eyes red and puffy. And Axel just had to smile that crooked smile at her, an edge of tenderness curling his lips. Because in the end, she was a victim just like all the others. Maybe she wasn't a victim in the literal sense. She wasn't stretched out across a slab in the morgue, Larxene wasn't cutting her open, and she wasn't the star of their crime scene photos, but she was still a victim. She had lost someone just like all those families. Maybe it wasn't so bad because it was only a cat, but she must have loved it all the same.

And a victim was still a victim, no matter what kind of victim the owner of a dead cat happened to be.

The redhead took a seat across from her, sinking into his chair as she just continued to watch. "Okay, girlie, I'm Axel, one of the detectives trying to sniff out this serial killer we've got running around, and I hear that someone killed your cat?" She nodded to him, knotting her fingers together in her lap. Axel was vaguely reminded of Zexion, but shook it off—this was no time to become distracted. "Would you mind telling me about that?"

The girl let out a little laugh, one laced with sadness and nerves. "Aren't you supposed to ask me my name first? Like they do in those shows on TV all the time?" She asked, her voice borderline hysteria. Maybe she wasn't as okay as he had originally thought.

"Well it's not all like those TV shows, kid." Axel sighed, leaning forward with that crooked smile. And the girl nodded, lifting her light brown eyebrows for just the slightest moment and exhaling through her nose. It was like she was barely managing to hold herself together. "But a name might be nice."

"Selphie Forester." She mumbled, and Axel didn't miss the mouthed 'thank you' that came right after.

His eyes softened just a bit as he watched her. "All right. It's nice to meet you then Ms. Forester." He extended his hand out towards her and she hesitantly shook it, allowing him to encircle her slender fingers with his heated palm. "Now about your cat—"

"Simba." She cut in, biting her lower lip with surprising force. "His name is—_was _Simba."

"Right." Axel leaned back, relaxing his shoulders and shooting her a supporting smile in an effort to calm her down. She wouldn't be of any use if she was too emotionally involved. He could understand her feelings. He had lost pets before as a child and it had felt like the end of the world. But right now, he didn't need feelings or emotions. He just needed the facts. "Could you tell me what happened to Simba, then?"

"You see," her brows furrowed, a light scowl setting across her lips, "I'm not entirely sure what actually happened; I just know what I saw."

"Okay. Just tell me whatever you can." Axel encouraged. And she did. She told him absolutely everything, from her telephone conversation to searching her house to finding him outside and petting his bloodied fur. The redhead listened carefully, his ears perked. By the time she had finished, he knew that they had another body on their hands, another victim to contend with. And while this victim wasn't the same as the others, it didn't change anything.

Their serial killer had struck again.

"Would you mind if we examined the body?" Axel asked quietly once she had finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, blue eyes wide. "I-I brought him with me." And with that, she pushed her hair behind her ears and reached under her chair to produce a cardboard shoebox, big enough to hold men's work boots. She held the box to her chest for just a moment and smiled at it sadly before carefully handing it over to the stunned redhead. "Everyone's getting hurt. Namine and the others…I thought that he might be able to help."

Axel stood, holding the box carefully with both hands. "I'm sure he will."

"Just make sure I get him back; I want to bury him." Selphie smiled that sad smile, grabbing on to her forearm and looking away.

"I'll make sure to get him back to you personally; that's a promise. I'll even get our leading lady down in the morgue to clean him up for you."

"Thank you." And even though those words were whispered, they held all the weight in the world as they rested on Axel's back as he walked away, the hallway his refuge. Without even looking into the box in his arms, he knew what he needed to do.

He needed to call Demyx, Leon be damned.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Hey." Zexion said nothing; he simply drew his knees that much closer to his lithe chest and stared endlessly at one of the hotel's blank walls. He knew he was acting like a child, but at this point he honestly didn't care what that tentative voice had to say.

The one above him let out a long, drawn out sigh, shaking his strangely styled hair and running his hands through it nervously. "Look, I know you're mad at me and you don't want to talk to me or anything like that—and I understand. Believe me, I understand. But, I mean, could you please come get in one of the beds? Or sit at the table? Something?" The criminal still said nothing. Demyx let out a whine, a sound laced with traces of guilt and apprehension. Hesitantly, he came to his knees, seating himself a mere foot away from the younger.

With oceanic eyes wide, he analyzed the other. He hadn't moved since the night before. He never came to bed or moved to one of the hotel's chairs. No. He hadn't left his space beneath the window. Granted, he had brought his legs closer towards himself and his arms were no longer held brokenly at his sides in a way that resembled a puppet. But that didn't really change anything. He still looked like he was broken, like Demyx had done something that had damaged him for good.

And he could stand the look in those glazed blue eyes, both momentarily laid bare.

He felt like someone he wasn't supposed to be. It was like he was changing into someone that he didn't even know—had no desire to know. In the beginning, he didn't necessarily like the criminal, but they were close enough to friends in his eyes. He felt like he could get closer to him than he already was. And that's all he wanted. He wanted to be close to the other in a literal sense instead of just the physical kind. And he was getting there. Slowly but surely, he had been getting there with the other. He knew just when to push and when to give. But now, something was wrong. He wasn't stopping anymore. He just kept snapping, pushing and pushing until there was nothing left, until he had crossed a line that was never meant to be crossed.

And he had crossed the line this time.

"Um, Zexion, I'm really…I don't even know." The blond leaned forward in just the slightest way; deeply set blue eyes blinked but otherwise didn't move. "Could you please just talk to me? You don't have to move or say anything you don't want to but…I just want to know if you're okay. Please?" The criminal still said nothing, causing Demyx to let out another—slightly hopeless—sigh. He really couldn't stand this. He couldn't stand seeing the other revert in such a way. It was like everything that had made him alive in the first place had simply gone away. He looked even _worse _than he had before. Every bit of light had gone away, leaving his skin pale and sickly. Leaving his bones jutted and scrapped. Leaving him defeated. His body swallowed up in Demyx's clothes.

"Will you look at me?" Demyx tried. When Zexion didn't respond, he reached out towards him, trying to grab at his sharp chin.

Blue eyes swiveled and narrowed. "Do not touch me." The blond smiled a sad smile, withdrawing his hand and placing it in his lap.

"So you can speak." Zexion remained silent, staring at the other with narrowed eyes. "Or not." Demyx let out another sigh, scooting closer and cocking his head to the side. "Are you mad at me? I mean, I understand why and I really should have done that and—"

"No." The criminal cut him off, his voice low and shallow. "I have no reason to be mad at you." And Zexion truly believed that he didn't. It would be completely irrational of him.

Blond brows furrowed, oceanic orbs widening in disbelief. "You have no reason to be mad at me?" He asked, his voice filled with shocked wonder. "What do you mean by that?"

Zexion let out a light sigh, readjusting himself so that his spine no longer dug into the wall. "I meant exactly what I said. I am not mad at you because I have no reason to be." As if to prove his statement, he nodded, loosening his hold on his boney legs.

"But that does make any sense!" Demyx shouted his tone louder than intended, causing the younger to shrink even farther into the wall, his eyes watching the other wearily. If last night told him anything at all, it was that Demyx was becoming unpredictable. He was losing patience. "I know I said that last night didn't happen, but…it_ did_ happen. I shouldn't have said those things. And I shouldn't have grabbed you like I did or yelled or…_anything_ like that! How can you _not _be mad?"

For a moment, Zexion remained silent, his lips set in a thin line as he scrutinized the other. It looked as though he hadn't gotten any sleep, despite the fact that he had gone to bed, his hair skewed about and his eyes weary. And Zexion supposed that that was possibly his own fault. Demyx was a kind person by nature and it had probably worried him that he hadn't really responded to him the night before. Which was fine. It wasn't as if he had anything to say to the other. For once, Demyx had had a point and his logic wasn't wrong, no matter how much he himself disagreed with it.

"Because you weren't wrong." He finally stated, watching as the other's blue eyes widened.

Demyx hummed, bringing himself that much closer to the other. He didn't really understand what the other meant by that. The night before he was completely against the idea; there was no way that he had changed his mind that quickly, even if he had had an entire night to think about it. "So you mean you understand what I meant when I said that _he _used you, right?" The blond tried to clarify.

The other shook his head. "That is not what I meant. I meant that your _logic_ wasn't wrong. It's perfectly plausible that I was roped into that entire scheme because I idealized _him _as a father. That, however, does not mean that I _did_ because I _didn't_. I never once saw him as a father figure; he was just a friend. And he didn't use me. But I can understand you thinking that. It's perfectly logical." Inwardly, Demyx sighed, a lazy smile spreading across his lips as Zexion began to chew nervously on his thumb. He didn't really understand and he doubtfully ever would. He only realized that his argument was logical; he didn't really _understand _it.

But Demyx was okay with that.

This gave him another chance to gain the other's trust. And maybe over time he could get him understand it on his own. Until then, he would just have to be content with Zexion denying it. And he could do that. He could wait it out just watching the other.

"Okay. I can live with that." He moved himself closer so that their foreheads were almost touching, oceanic orbs observing the darker pair before him. One of Zexion's slate eyebrows rose as the other's head tilted to the side, his lips coming closer to his own. He could feel the other's breath against his cheeks, the air thickening between them. Without even thinking, Zexion's lips parted in just the slightest way, his back arching so that his chest was nearly touching the blond's. And then they were just staring, waiting for the other to make the first move.

When the phone rang and ruined everything.

Jumping, they pulled away from each other, Demyx shooting the criminal a lazy smile before standing to retrieve his phone from its charger in the corner of the room. The caller ID said Axel, so he dutifully sighed and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"_Hey, man. Been catching up on some sleep on your day off? You looked like you needed it when I dropped you and Zex off."_ Axel's voice came through the phone, sounding tired, wearied even.

Demyx gave Zexion a shy look as he poked his head over the side of the bed and rested his chin against his palm, his eyes curious. "Not exactly."

"_Oh?"_

"Please just don't ask." The blond sighed. "Did you need something?" He asked impatiently, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck as Zexion continued to watch him.

"_Oh, yeah, right. About that__—__listen man, Leon might not be too happy about it, but I need you and Zexion back here as soon as you can get here. We've got two more bodies and one of 'em's a little weird. You think you could do that for me?"_

Oceanic orbs widened—two already?—causing Zexion's head to cock to the side in confusion. "Yeah. We'll be there as soon as we can."

"_Thanks. I'll see you in a few. Bye."_

"By—" The dial tone started before he'd even had a chance to finish. Sighing, the blond closed his phone, unplugging it from the wall and stuffing it in one of his pants pockets. "Go get dressed." He ordered at the criminal.

The other stood, nodding. "What is it?" He asked.

Demyx's blue eyes faltered as the roamed over the younger's frame, a trace of affection hidden in the overwhelming sadness. "We're needed."

**K3YBLAD3**

His breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he leaned over his basement sink, bile rising in his throat as he scrubbed at his reddened hands.

_It wouldn't come off._

No matter what he did, he couldn't make it go away. The dried blood just wouldn't wash off. Everything was ruined. Wrong. He had acted too rashly. He had meant to take the other one, but _no_, he had made a mistake.

That blasted cat was the first. It was supposed to be the girl but that damned _thing _had come outside. It was causing such a fuss, calling for its master. He just couldn't let it go on after that. It was going to get him _caught_. And no, no he couldn't allow that. So he'd killed it. He'd killed that fleabag and gotten rid of him for good. But he couldn't stop there. No. He couldn't stop. It deserved so much _more _from him. So he'd gutted that nasty thing, carving the words meant for the girl across his back.

He'd never been so impulsive!

He was always patient. He knew what he was doing. Oh, he always knew. And mistakes like that were just against his very nature. It threw him off.

Which brought him to the girl. That blasted girl. The _wrong _girl.

He wasn't going to kill her. No. She was the wrong one, but she was easy prey, all alone, running some errand for her parents. Yet he hadn't just killed her. He'd had the perfect opportunity, but no. He didn't. He simply brought her with him like the other one from before. But she had to die now, even if she was the wrong one. She'd seen much too much. She'd seen his face; she knew who he was. She had to die.

They all _had_ to die.

With his breathing under control, he pulled away, letting his stained hands turn off the water. He stared at himself in the mirror above the sink, watching his terror-filled eyes. No. This pathetic creature was not him. He was not this weak of a person.

He smiled crookedly. He could make this work. He wouldn't be able to eliminate the girl, since that blasted feline had taken her place, but he could use the other one. She wasn't the one who knew, but she would do. He could kill her. Use her light as a sacrifice.

This would work. His plans could continue on as planned; this _mistake _could be forgotten.

Mentally patting himself of the back, he turned towards the girl he had tied to a chair in the middle of the room, her big blue eyes wide and terrified, tears running down her rosy cheeks and matting in her gag.

Yes. He could definitely make this work.

**K3YBLAD3**

The air in the room could be cut with a knife, the weight of it literally suffocating the occupant's airways. Leon was not happy that Axel had disregarded him and pulled Demyx and that criminal back on the case, but had decided not to discuss it with the other at the moment, preferring instead to simply glare at the redhead. Axel paid no heed to him. He honestly didn't care how angry the other got at him; he was here to protect the town. It was his _job_ and—damnit all— he was going to do his job. Leon, Riku, and the rest of them be damned, it was going to happen.

He couldn't stand the way the others were acting. Sora and Larxene were nothing but mediators, but Riku and Leon were acting like children. Couldn't they see just how involved Demyx and Zexion were? Didn't they notice how they held themselves? How their eyes were just as broken down as everyone else's? Didn't they notice? It didn't even matter. He'd brought them back in because they needed everyone's help with this. And he wasn't about to let someone else die because Riku and Leon couldn't admit that they were wrong.

He was better than that.

"Since we're all here," Leon sent a pointed glare towards the criminal; he didn't seem to notice, "we should go over the last two victims: Sally Skellington, the town tailor, and Simba, a house pet. Both were inscribed with words like the others, one on the left wrist and the other across the back, respectively. Does anyone have a clue as to why these two were killed?"

Zexion cleared his throat, placing his hands on the table and knotting them together in a way that looked almost painful. Riku's eyes narrowed at him from his place beside Sora. "Sally's death makes sense." He mumbled seemingly to himself before falling silent, his bottom lip held firmly between his two layers of sharpened teeth like he was thinking.

If possible, Riku's glare intensified, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned forward in his chair. "Makes sense?" He parroted mockingly. "How so?"

"It's simple really." He said, his voice rising in just the slightest way as he sat up a little straighter. "Who do you go to when you have a loose stitching that you can't take care of yourself? You either go to someone in your family or the local tailor. And our killer lost a thread at the scene of Mulan's murder, correct? So it would only make sense for him to go to the town tailor if he doesn't have any close family members who could fix it."

"Then why'd he kill her if he needed her?" Sora asked, gaining a barely concealed glare of his own from the silverette.

"Because the press was given access to that information. All the public news stations were allowed to air that a grey thread was found. So, if the thread was terribly noticeable, the killer had to get it fixed. And he had to kill the tailor just in case she managed to put two and two together or tell someone else about it later on. He really just needed to cover his tracks; she was doubtfully even one of the original victims."

Riku leaned back, exhaling angrily. As much as he hated to admit it, the other had a point. "And how do you explain the cat? It doesn't make any sense with everything else he's done. He couldn't have possibly been covering his tracks with the feline."

Slate eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know. The cat was probably a mistake or an inconvenience. Either that or the cat was going to alert someone else of his presence. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"How can you be so sure that the cat doesn't mean something else? Maybe it's some kind of clue? This guy doesn't seem like the kind to make mistakes." Axel cut in before Riku eve had the chance to open his mouth, keen on keeping them from fighting once again.

"That's possible, but entirely unlikely. Due to the escalation in the amount of people killed and how they were killed, we can only assume that the man has become comfortable with what he's doing. He's probably started to feel invincible, so it would make sense for him to make a mistake now. He was being careful before, but now? He's becoming more and more careless with each person he kills because he feels like he's getting better at it." Zexion explained, his fingers continuing to knot around one another, the bones bending in seemingly impossible angles.

"You would know." Riku bit.

"I suppose I would." The criminal answered, a snarky sort of smile stretching his thin lips.

"You're nothing bu—"

The door swung open, the wooden frame slamming into the adjacent wall, revealing the slender framed cop from before, his eyes determined. "The station just got a call. Kairi Heart went on an errand for her parents earlier today and hasn't come back yet; she's gone."

Leon stood, his chair rolling back with a crash as his palms made contact with the table. "Sora, get me Xemnas on the phone. Now."

* * *

**A/N: Bleh~ I don't like how this chapter turned out either. It's longer than the last, but it still feels choppy in places and the characters aren't really doing what I want them to. Honestly, that's why this chapter is a week later than I had originally intended it. I lost the characters and couldn't seem to find them again until earlier today. It's a pain. **

**But hey~, all crappy-ness aside, there was an almost kiss in this chapter! Pretty soon this story will actually be earning its M rating! Wooh~ **

**Also, I apologize if Selphie's emotions seem off to anyone. I really tried to write her parts from the eyes of someone who really thought of their cat as a member of the family (and my cat was missing at the time- he's back now). And I also wanted her to seem like someone a bit younger than she actually is. I'm not entirely sure why, though...**

**Anybody else notice that Roxas has gone MIA?**

**Production: Next month should have two updates, but I make no promises. Writer's block is really getting to me and my English Comp. II course is about to begin to go along with my high school work. It should probably work out, though, since the next two chapters are more exciting than these past two have been (wink). **

**Quiz Winner(s): No quiz last chapter.**

**Quiz: An easy one this time- the killer mentioned grabbing the wrong girl and making mistakes in this chapter. Who was he supposed to grab and who was he supposed to kill? Also, what do you think of the story's pace so far? Do the characters move too fast or...?**

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. And they help with the writer's block too! (and yes, this is a plug for reviews, what of it?)^_^**

**And does fanfiction hate anyone else these days? Seriously. **


	15. Oathkeeper

**Happy Valentine's Day and Happy Single Awareness Day if you're like me! (Single Awareness Day spells SAD, by the way~)**

**Anyway, this wasn't meant as a Valentine's Day present, but I just finished it so, eh~ might as well post it today, right? ^_^**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyxfind the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.**

**Also, this chapter has not been beta-ed, because my beta has had to resign due to personal reasons (that sounds extremely formal for some reason -_-). Life is much more important than this fic, though, so I wish her loads of luck. Also on that note, if you happen to find anything extremelygrammatically wrong within this chapter, let me know and I'll be sure to fix it to the best of my abilities. **

**As for other things, read the Author's Note at the bottom, as always.**

**Now on with the chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Deeply set blue eyes glazed as they took in the sight before them. He wasn't surprised by what he saw, and he knew the others wouldn't be either. They all knew that this was coming; they just didn't want to face it before it was absolutely necessary. The others wanted to think that there was a chance. They wanted to think that there was a chance that they could save that girl, but they all must have known how futile that was. How childish it was for them to believe that they could save someone from someone who was already so many steps ahead of them.

Zexion never believed like they did. And he wasn't surprised by the words or the body, the placement or the dull look in those blue crystal eyes. He'd felt it in his gut from the very beginning; the killer was evolving. He knew what he was doing now. He was the one in control. Not the victims, not the cops. It was all _him_.

And he knew it.

It was all there—right in front of their faces. He'd sent Kairi's body to them as a sort of sick joke, positioning her in front of the office doors, her body clad in nothing but an oversized nightshirt, her legs spread in such a way to reveal the curved words engraved across her pale thighs and nothing else. He was toying with them, sending them a message. He was telling them to back off, to disappear.

He was telling them that he was unstoppable. That he could do anything he wanted and that they could do _nothing_ to stop him. They were powerless.

The criminal let out a sigh, turning his gaze to the one whose hands were gripping the steering wheel, oceanic eyes as hard as his knuckles were white. One slate eyebrow rose invisibly behind his fringe. Demyx was different than he normally was. With the others, he was just sickened, unhappy, saddened. But now, he seemed almost furious, that flash of rage he had witnessed in the hotel room prominent in the other's features. His jaw was clenched just as tightly as his knuckles, his eyes trained on the dead little girl through the car's windshield. Demyx actually looked angry, like he was ready to become the murderer. And it was an almost scary thing to see. "Demyx…?" He asked in a near whisper, watching the other through weary, analyzing eyes.

The blond just shook his head, closing those oceanic orbs for one long moment before letting out a sigh and unbuckling his seatbelt in a rush. All night. They had searched for her all night long. They had reanalyzed the crime scenes, created new suspect lists, redirected searches. And they had found nothing. Absolutely nothing that could help them find her. It was all useless. And here she was. They had stopped to sleep and now she was dead, paraded around for them all to see. It made him _sick_. He was a detective, damn it; he was supposed to help people. Not watch them die.

That wasn't what he was here for.

"Come on." Demyx ground out through gritted teeth, stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut after him. Zexion watching him go, his lanky frame easing towards the body, before unbuckling his own seatbelt and stepping out of the car with cautious steps.

With practiced ease, he kept his eyes trained on the ground as he came closer to the girl, paying close attention to the way his borrowed jeans trailed the ground in the morning dew and the way Demyx's breath was slowly evening out in a way that was almost shallow. "The others should be here soon." He said, turning his feet towards one another and knotting his hands behind his back. Demyx huffed, letting out a low, feral type sound.

"Lovely. A lot of good it does us to have everyone here _after _the body is dropped." He scoffed angrily before sighing again—a softer, resigned sort of sigh—and bending down so that he was only a small ways away from the girl's body. Kairi Heart: a cheerleader, an honors student, someone's daughter. Dead. Gone. Never coming back.

She was just so young—only a year or so younger than Zexion was. Too young to die. She was way too young to die. No one deserved to die before they were ever really given the chance to live, to see what life was really like. And she was just so beautiful, a lovely girl. She probably would have grown up to be someone great. She probably would have made someone a nice wife; she probably would have been a great mom.

And now she was gone, those blue eyes would never really get the chance to see the world; the world would never really get a chance to see those blue eyes.

"Zexion…I know that you don't really see things how I do most of the time, and I know you probably think I'm an idiot that doesn't what he's doing, but—I don't know—am I okay? When this is all over, am I going to be okay with all of this?" The blond's voice broke as his fingertips ghosted over Kairi's falsely painted lips and down her cheek. Ghosting, but never touching.

The criminal's head cocked to the side, confusion laced with a strange sort of tenderness present in his eyes. "I don't know how to answer that, Demyx." He answered truthfully, watching as the other's hand fell back down to his side, his shoulders slumping.

"And here I thought you knew everything." The older shook his head, a sad smile turning up his chapped lips as he stood.

"No one knows everything; I am no exception." Zexion pulled his bottom lip in between his rows of teeth and bit down, drawing a thin line of blood that oozed the bitter taste of iron onto his tongue. Demyx was acting strangely. He obviously cared about this girl—as he had cared for all the others before her—but he wasn't acting the same as he had before. There were no tears, no misdirected sympathy. In a way, his thoughts were still the same as they were before, but it seemed as if he was finally seeing the bigger picture—understanding the harsh realities of it.

Life is not a fairytale; there isn't always a happy ending once it's all over.

The blond crossed his arms defensively, turning those eyes of his towards the criminal seemingly for the first time since the day's beginning. "Then tell me what you know." He demanded, his voice hard and shaking with something akin to angered hysteria. "I have to know, Zexion. When this is all over, will I still be me? Will I still be okay?"

The younger let out a shaky breath. "I don't know, Demyx. I can't tell you what I don't know." And he couldn't stand the broken look in the other's eyes. "But…I know what it's like to lose yourself." He added quickly, coming a step or so closer. "And it takes a while, when it's all said and done with, for you to find yourself again. But in the end, you're still the same person you were before. You might look a little differently and your way of thinking might have changed or altered, but…you're still you."

"…okay. I can live with that." Demyx shot the other a sad sort of smile. "And thank you. For that…and everything else."

"Everything else?" One eyebrow rose, and the blond just shook his head, turning back towards the body of their newest victim.

He bent back down to the girl's level, trying not to meet her eyes or damage her dignity any farther than it already was. "Her parents said that she was running an errand for them when she was taken, so it's safe to assume that she was redressed. Can you make out what the word is supposed to be?" He asked, trying to keep his eyes away from the girl's thighs.

"Oathkeeper," Zexion supplied. "It's the next keyblade on the list. If the killer continues to do things according to the book series, then there are seven left."

"Then that means that we have seven people left to save then, doesn't it?" Demyx'seyes glazed as he finally met Kairi's deadened eyes fully. He would save someone. If it was the last thing he ever had a chance to do, he would save someone.

Zexion's lips twitched. "I suppose so."

"I'll have to get Larxene to do a rape kit on her, won't I? It would only make sense since these aren't her clothes. He could have…hurt her like that." Demyx's knuckles clenched at the startling realization, a lump beginning to form in his throat. "And this shirt—do you think it can be traced?"

"Maybe. We'll be more likely to find DNA evidence on it, though. There might be a stray hair or a speck of dirt somewhere."

"Yeah. We'll have to send the shirt off to Vexen and Marluxia in the lab. If there's anything on it, they'll find it."

With a screech of tires, the two turned, a sleek black car sliding to a grinding halt in one of the parking slots. Riku jumped out, his driver's side door slamming, with Sora following closely behind. And suddenly, Riku stopped, his mouth set in a thin, hard line because he knew without even really having to see.

"Who's going to tell the family?"

**K3YBLAD3**

"I want to see my daughter."

Demyx smiled sympathetically, his hands held up in a calming sort of gesture. "I know how you must feel, Mr. Heart, but…for the time being, we would like to keep your daughter's body with the others to examine for evidence. There's a chance that there might be some detail that we're missing and allowing you to see the body could jeopardize the case." The man's jaw clenched angrily as he leaned forward in his chair.

"How can you possibly know…?" He asked, his voice trailing off. He buried his head in his hands, holding back the gut-wrenching sobs that he had been holding back all night. He had to stay strong for his wife and his youngest little girl; he couldn't break down now.

The blond shook his head, placing a soothing hand on the man's shoulder. "I can only imagine how it must feel to lose your daughter like this…and I know that you want to see her, to make sure that she's okay. It's normal to feel that way. But I can't allow you to see her or take her away to be buried yet. We need her to help solve the case. Do you understand that?" The man nodded, running his hands through his hair and down his face, pulling at the newly forming wrinkles of desperation. Beside him, his wife sniffled, one dainty hand held over her mouth.

"We understand, Mr. Wendell. Just…make sure she gets back to us safely? Please? She needs to be allowed to rest…she never really did when she was still al—with us. She was always going somewhere, doing something. She deserves to rest." The woman nodded to herself, pushing a few strands of platinum blond hair behind her left ear only to have them fall forward again moments later.

Zexion watched from his position at one of the empty desks as Demyx calmed the family, soothing them in that strange personable way of his. In reality, this was probably why he managed to get this job in the first place. He wasn't the best detective out there and he wasn't the most mature, but he knew how to deal with people, especially those who were grieving, those who were lost. It was his specialty, even though it was apparent that he hated having to break the news. He and Zexion were complete opposites.

He was probably one of the best when it came to intellectual reasoning, but grieving parents? Sympathy? He didn't understand it. He wasn't like Demyx. He wouldn't just sit there and tell them over and over again that they would take care of their little girl. He wouldn't explain the girl's condition in such detail. He couldn't relate like Demyx did. He had never really lost anyone. Not even a pet. He had never really had friends growing up aside from those who were now locked away in prisons all across the country, and he had never really grown close to his parents.

The only loss he had ever really experienced was the loss of his freedom and he doubted that that compared. It had felt like the world was falling out from under him and swallowing him up, but it wasn't the same as losing someone you loved. It wasn't the same as losing a friend or a family member. He was still alive, still the same as he had been before. He'd had to watch the world go by without him, but he hadn't had to move on without someone that had always been there because no one had _ever _been there.

He had always been alone.

It was just something that always had been, and really, he was fine with it. He'd turned out okay despite the oppressive loneliness of his childhood and the murders. He'd turned out just fine. It wasn't like he had needed friends or parents that were around more often than the nanny. It wasn't really that important. Besides, the loneliness he used to feel was just a fleeting feeling from his childhood; it wasn't something—

The criminal jumped slightly, drawing his arm closer to himself as he eyed the girl before him. Namine Heart—sweet blue eyes, platinum blonde hair like her mother's, and the youngest of the Heart siblings. Wearily, he chanced a glance at Demyx, who hadn't seemed to notice that the girl had wondered off from her parents. Namine cocked her head to the side, a few blonde locks falling in front of one of her eyes and slapping at her pale cheek. She clutched a sketchbook to her chest like a lifeline, her chest moving up and down like that of a bird.

Frightened.

Zexion blinked; she didn't move or say anything. She just continued to watch him with those big blue eyes of hers, so like those of her sister. "Can I help you with anything?" He asked in a near whisper as if he was almost afraid to frighten her off, like she was a little hummingbird that could fly away at any moment. He remembered her from the murder of the college student—Yuna. She was the one who had found her, but she wouldn't speak a word about anything. Or, at least, she hadn't at the time. And as far as the team knew, she hadn't spoken a word since. She couldn't help them.

The lithe blonde shook her head quickly, allowing those strands to move wildly for just a moment or two before standing still again, blue eyes trained on him. After one quick moment, she began to nibble on her lower lip, fingertips scratching across her sketchbook as if she was distressed. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but quickly shut it again after shooting a quick glance towards the other three occupants of the room.

One arched eyebrow rose behind a slate fringe, its owner at a loss. He wasn't a people person; this was more Demyx's area of expertise. "Do you want to talk to me?" He finally asked, leaning forward so that his elbows were pressed firmly against the desk, the slight ridges cutting into his already abused skin. Across from him, Namine nodded frantically before shooting another glance towards the others.

And now, Zexion was getting somewhere. "You want to talk to me, but you don't want to talk right now?" Hesitantly, the blond nodded again, thin lips set firmly and defiantly. "You don't want to talk around the detective?" He asked, with a pointed look at Demyx. Namine shook her head. "Your parents?" She shook her head again, scrunching up her button nose.

"Anyone?" He tried slowly, trying to comprehend it all. "You only want to talk to me?" She nodded. "Okay." Hesitantly, she gave him a shy smile before turning on her heel and returning to her parent's side as if she'd never left it in the first place.

Interesting…

**K3YBLAD3**

Amber-orange eyes narrowed as the train came to a screeching halt within Twilight Station. With graceful movements, the man stood, grabbing his briefcase and sliding out the door and onto the terminal as soon as it was allowed. Before him, the terminal was nearly empty, housing only a few passengers who were waiting for the next train to board and the young girl at the ticket counter. It was hardly the welcoming that he had been expecting, but he supposed that he was fine with it. It was sufficient, at least.

With a scowl he strode forward, his black boots clanking against the terminal's tiled floors and echoing off the walls as he made his way through the security gate and out into the cool afternoon air. His strangely colored eyes squinted as the glare of the sun hit him, momentarily stopping him in the doorway. Oh how he hated the sun. Despite his dark tan, he never ventured outside unless he was forced, the light never failing to put him in a rather awful mood. But he supposed that it didn't matter at this point. He was here for business and as soon as he was finished he could make his way back to headquarters and bask in the darkness of his office. Until then he would just have to wait, and it's not like he was above waiting.

Off to the side, he heard a clap, followed by another and another. With a resigned sigh, he turned towards the sound, already knowing exactly who he would see. Blazing red hair accompanied by a lanky almost anorexic frame—Senior Detective Axel Jendriard, the single most annoying person within his company. If the man wasn't so good at his job, he probably would have fired him years ago. "I see you're lookin' lively, boss." The slight blond by his side looked at him incredulously, as if insulted by the way Axel chose to speak to his employer. Humph; at least someone knew how to respect their superiors.

"I see you're doing well, Detective." He replied, his deep voice lowered with nonchalance. He didn't particularly care for small talk. "Are you here to take me to Leon, by chance?"

"Of course." The redhead gave a little bow. "Your chauffeur has arrived." The blond shook his head and rolled his eyes before stepping forward.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Zeel. Would you like to stop by the hotel before we see the others, or would you rather head straight to our temporary headquarters?" The blond asked politely, holding out his hand to take his boss' bag.

Thin, tan lips stretched into an almost smile. "Headquarters if you don't mind. Leon sent me a rather disturbing report on the recent string of murders that have been committed in this town and I would like to see to those immediately. And I would prefer it if you call me Xemnas, Mr. Zeel is my brother."

"I was wondering why you were so ready to get knee-deep in the case; your brother lives around here, doesn't he?" Axel asked, opening the car door for Xemnas and leaning against the driver's side as his superior climbed in.

"Why yes, he does. And now you know why I would like for this case to be wrapped up as quicklyas possible." The redhead gave a brief nod at his words before shutting his door and climbing into his own. The blond followed suit on his side and within moments they were off, moving along the roads of Twilight Town at a swift pace. Amber-orange eyes could be seen through the tinted windows, narrowed disdainfully.

This town was much too light for his tastes.

**K3YBLAD3**

"The answer is no." Leon growled, eyes narrowed dangerously at the male across from him. The damn criminal just wouldn't back down.

"I need to talk to her. Just give me twenty minutes. That's all I'll need." Zexion managed through gritted teeth, his muscles taunt as he stood before the other man's desk. As much as he tried to hide it, he was positively livid beneath his skin. He was a convicted criminal; he understood that. He didn't really care about anyone; he understood that too. But it didn't matter what he was right now or what he did and did not do. If Leon would just let him talk to her then they could have vital insight that could help lead them to the killer. And Leon wouldn't let him because he was a criminal?

"Absolutely not. I'm not about to let a criminal into a locked room with an underage witness. Let Demyx go, or Riku or Sora. Not you. It doesn't have to be you."

The criminal let out a huff through his nostrils, angrily crossing his arms before him and digging his stubbed fingernails into his unprotected forearms. This was simply infuriating. "It does have to be me. She won't talk to anyone else." He ground out, narrowing his eyes.

"And what makes you so sure? If we give her a little more time, she'll open up to someone else." The brunette insisted, standing and planting his palms firmly on the desk, looking down on the one before him through angered eyes. He was not having this. No. Absolutely not. He was still the leader of this team and he would not allow such a thing. That damn criminal wasn't getting anywhere near one of his witnesses—especially alone.

The younger of the two took a deep breath to calm himself, chancing a quick glance at the blond that was busily pouring over autopsy notes, seemingly unaware that they were even in the room. "We don't have any more time, Leon. Someone dies every day, and if Namine can tell us something that could help us, I say we let her." Zexion stated calmly, letting out a long sigh as he messaged his temples. The brunette still didn't look convinced; he simply furrowed his dark brows and crossed his arms.

"As true as that may be, I will not condone badgering a witness in order to get information. You may have the morals for it, but I don't, and I _won't _allow it!" Leon growled, leaning forward and puffing out his chest menacingly.

"My morals have nothing to do with this and you know it." The smaller's voice was like ice as he spoke those seemingly useless words, lying his palms flat against the desk and coming that much closer. "This has everything to do with the case." _And my freedom_, Zexion mentally added.

At this point, he didn't know whether or not the girl's statement had anything to do with the overall case, but it was something. And for them to just ignore it when it _could_ be useful was unforgivable. For all he knew, that little girl could tell them everything; they could make an arrest within the very day—as unlikely as that may seem. And he could be free that much sooner. He would never have to set foot in this office again.

"_No, Schewyer_. I will have someone else talk to her if you believe her information could be that useful, but I'm not letting you talk with her. If you believe that this is all about the case, then it shouldn't have to be you, should it?" The team's leader glared, pointedly reseating himself and shuffling through the pile of paperwork that littered his desk.

"You don't understand. I _have _to be the one to talk to her because she won't talk to anyone else." Zexion insisted.

One brow eyebrow rose suspiciously. "And why is that?" He asked crossly.

Slate locks slapped against pale cheeks as the criminal shook his head, rubbing at his forehead as if he was trying to fight off an up-and-coming headache. "I'm not en—"

The office door swung open, cutting him off midsentence, revealing the company's silver-headed leader. His amber-orange eyes were narrowed, a scowl set firmly on his lips as he took in the scene before him. Demyx, one of his younger workers, seemed to be lost in his own little world, apparently busy with case notes, while his team head was obviously in a heated argument with…Zexion Schewyer. Well, this was certainly a curious development.

"I take it you're the criminal I was asked to sign off on, Mr. Schewyer." A statement, not a question. "I must say, I'm not disappointed. I was afraid that they might have actually let out a mass murderer or something of the like with the way that Leon was going on. It has been a while, however, and I realize that prison changes a person—such a sad thing that was. I'll have you know that I put in for probation by the way; I don't make a habit of sending children to prison for life." He said emotionlessly, those amber-orange eyes trained on the room's youngest inhabitant.

"Thank you for that then." Zexion gave him a polite nod of his head, wringing his hands out behind his back like he always seemed to. He didn't really appreciate being called a child, but this person—this person could call him anything he wanted.

Behind the company head, thin eyebrows rose above acidic green eyes. "Uh…you two know each other?"

Xemnas inclined his head in acknowledgment towards the redheaded detective. "Why, yes. Actually, I was one of the head detectives on his case; the one who caught him as well." He stated with a hint of smugness. "He was strangely difficult for a child." Axel made a noncommittal noise, stretching his arms above his head and walking over to take a seat beside the dirty blond who was just now looking up, confusion clear in his features. Roxas followed suit. "Now, as much as I would enjoy taking a trip into my younger years, it isn't exactly pertinent to this case. So, tell me, what seems to be the problem?"

Leon let out a long sigh, running one of his hands through his long hair. "As it stands, we have no suspects and one witness who refuses to talk." Zexion's lips tightened minutely; the movement did not go unnoticed, strangely colored eyes scrutinizing the slight twitch.

"And you believe this isn't true?" He asked, his question obviously directed at Zexion.

Thin lips tightened just a bit more, a silent puff of air sliding over them in a way that was most nearly irritated. "No. I do not."

One silver eyebrow rose upwards along tan skin. "And why is that?" He asked, and Zexion detected the faint hint of curiosity in his voice—he could win this. Xemnas had a slight weakness when it came to him, if his earlier comments were anything to go by, and he was Leon's boss. If he gave him permission to speak with Namine, then Leon wouldn't be able to disagree.

Inwardly, he smirked. "Because Namine is willing to talk." He stated simply, igniting that spark of curiosity even farther.

"Says _you_." Leon interrupted before Xemnas was even able to formulate an appropriate response. "Namine hasn't even attempted to make contact with anyone, yet she walks right up to you and _implies_ that she'll talk to you when you're _alone_. Forgive me for not believing a criminal such as yourself."

Now Xemnas was a reasonable man. He had lived his life surrounded by liars and cheats, the honest and the trustworthy, the law-abiding citizens and the criminals. He liked to think that he understood people and that he didn't make any decisions without hearing both sides, so Leon's obvious biased when it came to Zexion didn't sway him in the least. Though, it was admittedly a little suspicious. "Zexion, would you mind explaining why you believe that Namine is willing to talk with you if the two of you are alone?"

"She sought me out while her parents were speaking with Demyx," he inclined his head towards the blond, "and simply implied it when I asked." He shrugged his boney shoulders. "There's nothing more to it."

"I see." Xemnas' head tilted in just the slightest way, and the criminal had to fight to keep the smirk from being seen. Hook, line, and sinker. He was already winning this. "I suppose that would make sense. Why do you think she would come to you instead of someone else, though? There are many others that obviously come off as more personable to you, and if I read the reports correctly, the girl had already met Demyx. Why not go to him? Or one of the first responders after Yuna's death—Sora or Riku?"

The criminal brought his hand to his mouth and nibbled on his fingertips as he thought. Honestly, he didn't really know. Xemnas was right really. Namine choosing him didn't really make any sense. She had already met Demyx before the killings had had the chance to escalate, and Sora and Riku were the first to respond after Yuna's body was found. And following along with that, Larxene would even make a better choice that he would. She even seemed to like her. So why him? He had never even seen her one-on-one, and he knew for a fact that he didn't come off as a friendly type of person. If anything, he came off as standoffish and distant.

So why?

Why would she choose him of all people?

"I don't really know." He stated finally, knotting his fingers together in a way that looked almost painful. "But I suppose that she saw me as less of a threat." His brows furrowed uncertainly. "I'm smaller than the others, and I probably seem less able—not as muscular, I don't carry a gun. I'm less of a threat to her than the others are. She probably thinks that I'm safer."

"_Safer_?" Leon snorted. "Murderers aren't safe."

Xemnas' eyes narrowed in just the slightest way. It was painfully obvious that he had let this go on for far too long; the animosity against Zexion was apparent when it came to Leon, and if his memory served him, Riku was even more so. The team was probably at its breaking point. But, even so, this kind of thing was not something that he could allow to negatively affect the case. Lives were on the line here, and he wasn't about to let something as trivial as prejudice get in the way of this case. "I see. I can understand your discontent Leon, but I'll allow it. Zexion will be allowed to speak with the girl in the hopes of gaining information from her."

Zexion nodded, undeniably pleased. Leon scowled but said nothing against his superior's decision. He disagreed with it wholeheartedly, but he knew when he had lost. "I'll prepare a room then."

**K3YBLAD3**

Roxas let out a yawn, bumping into Axel as they walked. He was tired—overly so—and it felt like the case would never reach a stopping point. It just kept going; it was like the killings would never end—a new day, a new victim. At the rate they were going, they'd lose everyone. Everyone would just be gone like Tron was. Gone forever and never coming back. Dead.

"This place look good to you?" Axel asked, stopping mid-walk and gesturing to a fast food restaurant that was practically hidden in between two alleyways. Light blue orbs studied the sign for a moment, wondering briefly if he should eat food from a place called _Monstro's Belly_, before the blond shrugged and headed inside. The bell gave a little jingle as the door opened, catching the attention of the two cashier workers—Roxas assumed that they were high schoolers judging by the look of them.

"Hello! And welcome to _Monstro's Belly_, where we serve the best food from under the sea in whatever way you choose!" The dirty blond at the counter smiled excitedly, seeming to hop on the balls of his feet. "But please don't ask for Flounder! He's busy saving the sea with Ariel!"

The rustic redhead beside him with the dark tan grimaced, shaking his head and pushing the blond out of the way. "Ignore him; he's new." He said, sending the other a dirty look. "And we're only supposed to say that to the _kids_, Tidus. _Kids_. Do these two look like children to you?"

The blond stuck his tongue out at him childishly before turned back to their now— admittedly—worried customers. "Wakka just likes to ruin my fun. It's sort of what he's good at. Anyway, would you like to order now or look at the menu for just a little longer? Right now, we have double-stack fish sandwiches as our special. Buy one, get one free! And all that jazz." He did the jazz hands while rolling his eyes. "And may I recommend the fishsticks? You can get them in a small, medium, large, or family size, and they come with two small drinks and one si—hey, wait a minute! You two are with those detectives, aren't you?" Dirty blond brows furrowed expectantly.

Axel blinked. Acidic green eyes glancing at Roxas for just a moment before he shook his head. "That's us— detectives." Skinny eyebrows rose, wiggling suggestively with a slightly feral smirk. "Yeah, kid, that's us. Now, I don't know about Roxy here, but I would love some of those fishsticks. Give me the largest size you've got too. What about you?" He asked, turning towards his blond companion.

"Same here. But, seeing as I'm not an anorexic bottomless pit, I'll just take a medium." Axel nudged him in the side teasingly, smirking like a shark as he leaned against the counter, his long, long legs stretched out beneath him. The one called Tidus quirked an eyebrow at them but said nothing, preferring instead to simply take their money and disappear into the kitchen in the back.

Wakka narrowed his brown eyes in just the slightest way, observing the way the two stood slightly apart from one another, the lanky redhead whistling a slight tune while the blond one called Roxy just stood there staring off into space longingly. Well, if he wanted information, it seemed as though now would be the time to obtain it. "Do you know anything about Kairi Heart?"

Acidic green eyes locked instantly, that slight frame tightening defensively. "It depends on what you want to know, and who's asking."

Wakka let out a sigh, leaning back against one of the restaurant's many walls. "She is—_was _a friend of mine. Selphie heard about that she was missing last night when Kairi's mom called her looking for Kairi, but she hoped that it was all just a misunderstanding. Like she got lost or something, you know? I mean, it wouldn't have been the first time that she got lost—she'd never been very good with directions…." The teen swallowed thickly, chancing a glance towards the kitchen area before turning back towards the redhead. "And then Selphie called me this morning and said that she was gone. It's sort of hard to believe, you know? We've grown up together…she was like my little sister, and I loved her like one too.

"I just want to know what happened to her. And it's not like I can just go and ask her parents, you know?"

Axel nodded, letting a sigh escape his lips as he relaxed a bit. "Listen, kid, I can't tell you any specifics about the case, and as far as that goes, we're not even sure what all happened to her at this point. I'm sorry." And he meant it without having to see that face fall. He knew what it was like to lose someone, lose a friend, a relative. He knew what it was like to not know.

And uncertainty wasn't something that he would willingly wish on anyone.

"Okay." Wakka said at length. "That's okay…. I just wanted to know." The tan teen bowed his head, staring dismally at his feet. He'd tried. The detectives couldn't tell him anything at all; it seemed as though he was going to have to wait to hear it when everyone else did, like he'd never been close to Kairi at all, like they'd never even been frie—

"Your fishsticks are ready!" Tidus exclaimed, emerging from the back of _Monstro's Belly_, and placing them on the counter. Suddenly, he stopped, furrowing his brows. "Did I miss something?" He asked, tilting his head to the side in just the slightest way. Wakka shook his head, plastering on a smile for his friend. Confused, Tidus chanced a look across the counter.

Roxas and Axel both shook their heads, grabbing at their plates. "Nah, don't worry about it. But hey, can you do me a favor?" Hesitantly, the dirty blond nodded. "Good. Okay, listen, if you see a guy come in here with this funny mullet/Mohawk thing going on and light blue Converses, tell him that Flounder is on the menu, you got that?" Axel called as he backed towards the door, Roxas in tow.

"Uh, sure?" Tidus mumbled, nodding his head just a bit. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Awesome. See ya around!" The redhead gave a little wave, finding himself once again on the streets of Twilight Town. Roxas stood beside him, his lips set into a deep scowl, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"You were talking about Demyx, weren't you?" He said calmly.

The redhead cackled a bit, striding forward with a swing in his step. "Yup. Haven't I ever told you about Demyx's intense love for _The Little Mermaid_?"

**K3YBLAD3**

"You seem to have grown quite attached." Xemnas commented idly, disinterestedly staring at the screen before them. Beside him, Demyx's shoulders tensed with nerves. It was one thing to be in a room with the boss when there were other people around; it was quite another to be alone with him.

"What do you mean?" The blond asked, rubbing at the back of his neck, scrapping his nails along his skin as if he was trying to force himself to calm down.

The company head snorted shallowly, resting his chin on his palm. "You know what I mean, Mr. Wendell. You are not nearly as idiotic as many believe you to be, and I have yet to determine whether or not you use that to your advantage or not. You may not even fully realize it."

Demyx quirked his mouth to the side minutely in slight confusion. "Yes, sir…?" And to the blond's surprise, his boss laughed—a deep, hearty sort of laugh that seemed to echo throughout the entire room. It wasn't overly loud or obnoxious; it simply was. "Sir…?"

"Don't act as though I'm going to bite your head off at any moment. My intention in bringing this up was not to make you uncomfortable." Xemnas explained, his eyes still trained on the screen that revealed Zexion's slender frame and Namine's light, both occupying the room across the hall, surveillance cameras watching them as they talked. "No. I merely wanted to know if my assumption was correct and, judging by your response, I can assume that it is. You have developed a rather emotional attachment to Mr. Schewyer, have you not?"

Demyx let out a long sigh, hunching forward desperately. "Yeah…but it's not affecting the case, I swear! I mean, we've had some problems and Zexionisn't the easiest person to get to know—and I really _am _an idiot when it comes to him because he's just so complicated! He gets all mad and then says he _isn't _mad, because that makes a lot of sense to him. And I'm not a very log—"

"Mr. Wendell." Xemnas held up his hand, effectively cutting him off, a layer of amusement mingling with his normally nonchalant tone. "As I stated before, I am not bringing this up to make you uncomfortable. I simply wanted to know if I was correct; the nature and complexities of your _relationship _have nothing to do with me as long as it doesn't affect your work."

Sheepishly, Demyx smiled, his cheeks tinting red. "Uh…we're not exactly in _that _kind of relationship."

"I see." Xemnas mumbled, though anyone who could see the slight twinkle in his amber-orange eyes could see that he was unconvinced, and highly amused. "Well, no matter. I am quite fond of Zexion myself, and it's nice to see that he's managed to make a friend on this side of the law."

"Yeah…" Demyx managed though his crooked sort of smile, embarrassedly turning back towards the screen. Some conversations were just awkward…

On the other side of the screen, Zexion's hidden eye twitched in slight annoyance. He could practically feel the eyes on his back through the hidden security camera and—despite the fact that he had lived the majority of his life surrounded by cameras—he couldn't stand being watched. He hated it. It made him feel like a child, and he was _not _a child.

Innocent azure eyes widened nervously as pale lips were nibbled upon by sharpened teeth. Zexion sighed internally. He really needed to calm down; otherwise, Namine would never talk to him. "Listen Namine, I need for you to tell me everything you can about when you found Yuna's body. Can you do that for me?" He asked, willing his voice to sweeten sympathetically. He had a feeling that it didn't really work out in the way he had hoped, but Namine didn't seem to notice. She merely tucked a strand of wheat-like blonde hair behind her ear and stared at the table before her, her feet tapping nervously against the carpeting. "This is really important Namine. Anything you can remember, anything at all will help."

He could see her shoulders slump as she sighed, a slight breeze falling from her lips. "I-I…S-she and it—it was…and I-I didn't—"

"Take your time." The criminal encouraged, leaning forward in his seat in order to hear the soft, broken words. It seemed as though all counts had been correct; she really hadn't spoken since the incident, her voice scratchy and raw from disuse. "Just calm down and tell me what you can remember, okay? It's okay if you don't remember everything."

She took a deep breath and started again, glancing at Zexion gratefully. "I can't real-ly remember what happened af-after, b-but…the container…I'd never seen it before. I-I've been going to the junk heap ever since I was little. Sometimes, someone will drop something off…but normally, everything's the—same. Everything's the same. But, the container looked old—like i-it was supposed to be there—so I-I thought that maybe I had just never noticed it. But…I looked through my pictures, my sketches…it wasn't there.

"It had _never _been there." She stressed, blue eyes holding him in place in something akin to wonder. "B-but I had seen it be-fore. Somewhere else. I-I thought that I was just being paranoid, but then…I saw one just like it. This one was brand new, but _exactly _like the other one."

Namine nodded to herself, sitting back in her chair and nibbling on her lower lip, looking at Zexion imploringly. "Do you remember where it was?" He asked, one visible eye lightening and filling with something not unlike excitement.

"The butcher's shop." She said without hesitation. Maybe it wasn't the right person and maybe she had simply been mistaken, but she had to do this. She had to do whatever she could to stop this.

And at the way Zexion's mouth quirked, she knew she was doing some good.

* * *

**A/N: Look, lovies! This chapter is longer AND there's _meat_! Moohaha~ (Yes, I'm a dork, and too tired at the moment to really care).**

**Anyway, it took me a while to really get into this chapter, but I don't _completely _hate the way it came out. I think it went into a few issues and there were a few sort of cute moments that weren't originally supposed to be there but I felt like adding in anyway (like the scene at _Monstro's Belly _and Demyx's little talk with Xemnas there at the end). There wasn't any romance in this chapter really, but if you'll stick with me until the next chapter I'll try not to disappoint. ^_-**

**Oh, and see? I remembered Roxas this time. I just misplaced him for a while is all. **

**And can anyone else tell how much I enjoy writing Xemnas' character? Seriously. **

**Production: There should be one more update this month, but again, I make no promises. I forgot that this month was shorter than all the rest and school has officially decided to kick my ass (high school and college, guys. I'm doomed~). Also, writer's block. Yeah. I will, hopefully, have it up before the end of the month, though. Fingers crossed. **

**Quiz Winner(s): The two people who got both parts of the quiz correct were Shadow of a Fallen Angel and Zemyx-AkuRoku! *applause***

**The people who got part of the quiz right were PockymonX3, shadowdolls, aristicats11, and AquaIllusion. (And, as always, I apologize if fanfiction has eaten your name from this list).**

**Full Quiz Answer: Selphie was supposed to be killed instead of Simba, and Namine was supposed to be grabbed instead of Kairi.**

**Quiz: None this go round. Though, I would like to know how you feel about Zexion and Demyx's relationship and how it's progressed so far. Is it too fast or does there seem to be something lacking...?**

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^_^**


	16. Fatal Crest

**Well this was earlier than expected...I just thought that I'd post if right after I finished it, just please don't hate me at the end. -_-**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~!**

**Also, this chapter, like the last few, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know! And a special thanks to those who informed me of the EXTREME error with spaces in the last chapter and those who informed me of the form misuses in a few places. ^_^ **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Black boots crunched against gravel, sinking into the earth and becoming coated in a light layer of white-gray dust. Their own didn't seem to notice, his eyes trained on the plain squat like building before him. It wasn't flashy or posh, yet it looked nice enough, its simply colored walls offsetting the blood red lettering of the sign that identified the building. Amber-orange eyes narrowed at it, analyzing it. It seemed nice enough for a butcher's shop, but he had been in the business long enough to know that looks could be deceiving—Zexion's crimes were enough to attest that.

"Sir, you really didn't have to come all the way out here. It's too dangerous for someone of your position to be doing field work." Sora sounded off behind him, his voice a bit hesitant.

Xemnas sighed to himself. Really, who did they think he was? He was the company's head by definition, but that didn't mean that he wasn't allowed to take part in active investigations. He was still a detective whether his employees wanted to admit it or not. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Mr. Thompson. There is a reason that I am still alive, you know." He turned his head to face the brunette, watching him with narrowed eyes as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly, his blue orbs downcast as if he was in the process of being reprimanded.

"My apologizes, sir." He mumbled. Xemnas let another sigh escape his lips. He had always enjoyed being the company head and having a certain amount of power over his employees, but sometimes he wished that they treated him more like a coworker than a boss. It would certainly make things a bit easier in terms of communication.

"Are we ready to go inside?" He asked, turning his silver-covered head back towards the shop. Dusk was just beginning to fall and, while it was certainly an improvement when it came to the overwhelming brightness of Twilight Town, he didn't appreciate being outside at such an hour. He would much prefer having a nice dinner if it was all the same.

Without waiting for an answer from the two behind him—Mr. Thompson and Mr. Destin, he moved forward, pushing open the shop's whitewashed door and stepping inside to the sound of an overly loud bell. The inside was quaint, including only the necessities without seeming sparse. The place was dimly lit with a strange smell of lemon attempting to override the smell of dead animal, lovely looking meat stacks on display behind paneled glass. Nothing seemed particularly suspicious about the place. It was just your everyday run of the mill, small town butcher's shop.

The silverette at the counter half smiled at him, his lips quirking up at an awkward angle, like he didn't really know how to smile in the first place. "May I help you?" He asked, leaning forward against the counter just a bit, oddly lanky elbows sliding along the glass top. His hair swayed as he moved, the tips just barely reaching the top of his shoulders.

"You may, actually." Riku spoke up from behind him, standing in the doorway with Sora, his voice as hard as ice. The man at the counter tilted his head to the side as Riku walked towards him, stopping a mere foot or so away and crossing his arms. "We're looking for the owner of this establishment."

"Brother?" The man's lips set into a firm scowl. "What do you want with him?"

Xemnas' eyes narrowed at his employee. Riku was possibly the best at what he did, but he wasn't without faults. It was quite obvious that his lack of couth was shutting this man down. He had immediately become defensive, so it was doubtful that he would help them at this point. It was painfully obvious by the way he said the word 'brother' that he had quite an attachment to him. "We're with the detectives that have been investigating the crimes being committed here in Twilight Town, and it seems that a piece of your brother's property has been found at one of the crime scenes. As I'm sure you can see, this is a bit troubling and we would like to clear up your brother's involvement as quickly as possible."

The man's eyes narrowed as he pulled his arms to his chest defiantly. "Why don't I believe you?" He asked suspiciously.

Sora bit at his bottom lip, stepping forward in just the slightest way. "Listen, sir, we're really just here to follow up on a lead. We're not here to arrest him or anything; we just want to take him downtown and make sure he didn't do anything."

"You're lying." He said, backing away from the counter and chancing a quick look towards the back of the shop. "And you're _not _taking brother."

Sora held up his hands defensively, trying in vain to calm him down. "I swear, we just want to talk to him. Really."

Pale green eyes narrowed. "Leave. I don't want you here."

"Sir, listen, we just need to talk to him. If you won't let us do that, then we'll get a warrant and come back. Do you understand? We're going to talk to him either way and it would save you a lot of trouble if you would tell us where he is now." Riku growled, coming a little closer to the counter and leaning over it in just the slightest way.

"No. He's not here. Just leave! You're not allowed to take brother away." The silverette shook his head in a way that was nearly deranged, backing farther away from Riku.

Thin, tan lips let a chuckle pass them, their owner taking a step closer, his black boots smashing against the shop's wooden flooring. "Now that isn't exactly true, now is it? Your brother is in the back of the shop, isn't he?" And at the way those pale green eyes widened, he knew that he was right. "I saw you glance that way just a moment ago. Now, I know you think you're just protecting your brother, but it would really be for the best if you let us talk to him and clear all of this up before it goes any farther."

"No. He's not there and you're not taking him!" He glared, pale lips set.

There was a crash from the back room. "Kadaj? Is someone out there?" A deep voice called.

"No! Brother, stay there and don't come out!"

Suddenly, the door to the back opened, revealing a tall man with long silver hair, his facial shape and eye color eerily similar to the man known as Kadaj. For a moment, he simply stood in the door, casting his strangely colored eyes about and taking in the scene before him. Everyone stayed silent as his eyes narrowed in just the slightest way, and then, as if some unknown switch had been flicked, he sighed, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. "Would someone mind telling me what's going on out here?"

"They've come to take you away, brother! And we can't let that happen, so go back and I'll get rid of them." Kadaj nodded to himself, rushing to his brother and pushing back against his chest, as if he was trying to get him to retreat.

The man let out another sigh—this one long and desperate—before grabbing the other by his wrists and shushing him like he was nothing but a child in his eyes. "Can anyone tell me what's _really _going on?"

Xemnas cleared his throat. "We are simply here to take you downtown to the police station and ask you a few questions regarding a piece of your property that was found at one of the crime scenes. That is all."

"And I can't answer the questions here?" He asked.

"I am afraid that you cannot." Xemnas answered emotionlessly. "I apologize if this is inconvenient for you."

The man with the long silver hair squared his shoulders, exhaling through his nose before glancing down at the brother he was still holding on to. "Listen, Kadaj, I'm going to go with these men and—"

"No! They can't take you!"

"Kadaj, I'm _going _to go with them. I want you to stay here and close up the shop, and I'll be back before supper, okay?" He explained patiently, coaxing with his voice unnecessarily calm.

Kadaj bit his lower lip, nodding his head minutely. "Okay…"

The silver-headed man smiled at his brother caringly before letting him go and hopping over the counter. He nodded at the detectives as they retreated outside, the whitewashed door closing behind them with the sound of the bell echoing within the shop.

The sun had fallen farther in the sky, the faint hint of darkness seeping into the air. Xemnas couldn't help the satisfied smile that pulled at his lips. "Sir, I ho—"

"I apologize for my brother." He interrupted, three pairs of eyes on him as his own pair began to glaze over with sadness. "He hasn't been quite the same since Mother passed away a few years ago, and then this past year our other two brothers were killed in the line of duty. It's been…stressful for him."

Xemnas nodded. "It's quite alright. I assure you, your brother's actions have no bearing in this investigation." His brother's actions meant nothing to him. This man would either be convicted of his own doing or not at all.

That was only fair, after all.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Sephiroth Franks. You're twenty-eight years old, the owner of the local butcher's shop, and the primary caretaker of your younger brother, Kadaj Franks. Is this information correct?" Riku glanced up from the forms in front of him, his strangely colored eyes trained on the bored looking man in front of him. The one known as Sephiroth nodded once, his chin set, and straightened up a bit in his chair. Riku analyzed the movement. Inwardly, he smirked; it seemed as though Mr. Franks had a problem with authority. "All right then, now that that's cleared up, can you tell me where you were eight days ago around this time?"

Silver brows knotted together suspiciously. "I thought I was here about a piece of property?"

"I'm getting to that." The profiler put in lazily. "But, first, where were you? It's just a formality." He tilted his head to the side just a bit, watching the other in a way that was nearly calculating. If he were being honest with himself, he would admit that Zexion was right about this. Talking with Namine was the best thing to do and it had gotten them a solid suspect. That was really all that they could ask for right now, and it seemed as though Zexion was really taking on an active role in the case. Of course, Riku would never admit it. To him, the criminal was still just a damn leech that he just couldn't seem to get rid of. And it was even worse now. Even Xemnas, the _leader _of their whole damn _company_, trusted him.

And Riku hated it.

He hated that that criminal was allowed to roam free like he'd never killed anyone in cold blood. He hated that everyone listened to him like his word was law, and he hated that everyone tolerated him because of Demyx. Demyx—the team member that couldn't stand the sight of blood. The one that everyone just _let_ have his way, even if it didn't make sense, even if it could jeopardize everything they worked for. Riku hated that criminal and he was beginning to hate Demyx too. He hated the fact that they just were. And, most of all, he hated that he couldn't do anything about it.

"Eight days ago? I work at my shop every day, nearly from dusk until dawn." Sephiroth sighed, his shoulders sagging in just the slightest way before pale eyes narrowed. "I haven't been a member of this community for long, and I've been through a lot before I came here. So, why don't you stop beating around the bush and get the point? I'm not someone you can fool, detective, and I would appreciate it if you didn't treat me like I am one. It would make things much easier."

Riku smirked openly, leaning back in his chair and pushing a yellow folder towards the other, the sound of it gritting against his ears. Sephiroth looked at it skeptically, long silver hair swishing to the side as he brought himself forward. "Open it and you'll know what this is all about." He said nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The butcher exhaled through his nose before flicking the folder open. His eyes sparked at what he saw, yet he said nothing; he simply pulled the pictures out one by one, calmly placing each morgue photo on the table before him. In each picture, there is a body covered by a thin white sheet, dull ashen eyelids staring back at him. "I'm not sure if that file of yours tells you this or not, but I used to be a soldier. Scare tactics such as this do nothing for me. I only see bodies when I look at these photos—nothing more, nothing less."

Riku's lips set themselves in a thin, angry line. "If they mean nothing to you, who's to say that you didn't kill them?" He toned and Sephiroth let out a thin laugh, a laugh filled with joylessness.

"I have seen my fair share of bodies, detective, and I have been the cause for many of them. I know what it's like to kill someone at arm's length and I know what it's like to lose someone by someone else's hand." Pale fingers touched the photographs, sliding over them one by one. "And I, for one, have hand enough of it. I didn't do this, and something tells me that you already know that."

The profiler gritted his teeth, only a step above snarling. "You're missing a meat freezer, are you not?"

"If I am, I am unaware of it." Sephiroth chimed carelessly, tapping his fingertips against the table's steel top.

Riku simply glared. It seemed as though this ex-soldier knew everything there was to know about interrogation methods. He seemed just as calm as he had been originally. "Then would you mind telling me why one of these bodies," he gestured to the photographs on the table, "was found in one of your meat-freezers?" The silver-headed profiler pulled another photograph from within his stake of papers and slid it across the table to join the others. Sephiroth picked it up slowly, allowing it to slide in between his slender fingers. "That is one of yours, is it not?"

"That old thing? Is that what this is all about?" Sephiroth smirked, his lips quirking crookedly. "I had the bartender, Tifa Lockhart, haul it off to the junk yard about a week ago. She needed the money, and I needed the thing gone so I would have enough room for the new one. You could ask her, if you want."

"I'll be sure to do that, Mr. Franks. You can bet on that." Riku ground out. Damn it all—he'd thought that they had had him.

"If that's all, I would like to leave. Kadaj needs me at home; he doesn't do well when he's been left alone for too long." The man stood, pushing his hair away from his face and pulling himself to his full height in one fluid motion. Without waiting for the profiler's permission, he strode forward, only stopping in the doorway when he heard a vague noise from the other.

"Tell me, Mr. Franks, does your brother take Xanax by chance?" Riku stated nonchalantly, uncaringly resting his chin on his palm as he leaned forward in his seat.

"You'll leave my brother out of this if you know what's good for you." Sephiroth stated simply, retreating into the hall and half slamming the door behind him. Riku smirked to himself. They were closing in; he could feel it in his bones.

**K3YBLAD3**

Pale lips set in a slight scowl. Porcelain skin clung to nearly malnourished cheeks, slate hair cascading down them and brushing against the tabletop, its owner hunched over—writing like it was their only worry in the world. Slender fingertips tapped against the pencil's sides, the eraser coming closer and closer to those pale lips, being taken in a nibbled upon absently. Lightly tanned knuckles pulled together, squeezing at the bed's sheets with surprising force, their owner's oceanic blue eyes widening desperately.

This was going to kill him.

Xemnas had told the two of them to go back to the hotel room and get some rest, that they would call them if they were needed. And, so far, they _hadn't _been needed and Demyx was stuck here watching Zexion seduce him without even realizing it. He was a detective. He knew that; they all knew that. But it didn't take a detective to know that he thought that the other was a beautiful person—both inside and out. He liked him to put it bluntly. Maybe he even loved him somewhere deep down. He didn't know. He honestly didn't know what the extent of his feelings were when it came to Zexion, and part of him didn't want to know.

And he was okay with that. Really, he was completely okay with not really knowing. Obliviousness was an amazing thing at times, and he was at least mostly certain that if he knew just how much he cared for the criminal he would lose what little bit of sanity he had left at this point. And he couldn't let that happen. Besides, wasn't there something wrong with having _sexual _feelings for someone who had murdered someone else? Especially when you were technically their caretaker? Really, there had to be something morally wrong with all of this, otherwise he wouldn't feel so guilty about it all.

And, of course, he couldn't forget that Zexion was fragile. He couldn't just start doing something like _that _with him. Zexion was a little too broken for something like that, and—what if he hurt him? Demyx wouldn't be okay with something like that, especially knowing that he was the cause of it. And, really, what was he even thinking? Zexion had made it at least mostly—sort of—clear that he wasn't okay with a relationship of any kind yet here he was, watching him like he was some horny teenager. What was wrong with him? There were people dying out there! But what was he doing? Absolutely nothing. Fantasizing about _those_ kinds of things.

He was completely and utterly hopeless, and he hated himself for it at this point. He wished that Xemnas wouldn't have told them to go away. At least then he would have something else to distract him. Hell, maybe he could just go for a walk? That'd be safer than staying here. But then Leon would get mad at him for leaving Zexion alone—_because he was still a criminal_—and taking him with him would defeat the purpose _entirely_. Honestly, what was he supposed to do? Just sit here and wallow and stare and—

"Is there a particular reason you're staring at me like that?" Oceanic orbs widened as they met one visible cobalt eye—curious and a little annoyed. The figure across from him had turned in his chair, one boney elbow supporting his chin in his palm as he stared. The blond smiled sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck with calloused fingers. "Demyx?"

"I…" Demyx sighed heavily, standing up before taking the seat across from the criminal, slumping forward in just the slightest way. One slate eyebrow arched elegantly. The older assumed that he wanted to know what he was thinking about, why he was staring at him like a predator about to take out their prey. Of course, if he told him the real reason why, not only would he feel like a fool but the other would doubtfully ever let him come near him again. He had probably been through more betrayals then he could take already, and Demyx wasn't about to add to that list. "What's new with the case?" The blond finally asked after a moment of silence.

Zexion gave him a long stare before rolling his visible eye and turning back towards his paper, the pencil still held in his hand. "They've finished interviewing Sephiroth Franks. From the report, he certainly _looks_ promising." He mumbled, tapping that eraser tip against his lips—and all Demyx could think was that he'd rather have _other _things near his lips. But he wasn't going to say that, so he bit his lip and nodded, trying to look at anything and everything but the one before him. He couldn't think about those kinds of things right now. It wasn't appropriate; it wasn't _right_. So he would just have to ignore it, pretend that everything was okay and that nothing was unusual. Hopefully, Zexion would buy it. After all, Demyx was off the charts at times; it would make sense for him to act a little odd, wouldn't it? "Demyx? Are you listening?"

"Huh?" Oceanic orbs widened. Zexion simply glared, letting out a slight huff. Honestly. This was just ridiculous. Here he was tryingto answer him and he was ignoring every word that came out of his mouth.

"I was saying that the butcher looks promising. He's a solid suspect." The younger of the two sighed, watching as the blond nodded at him stupidly without looking at him. Cobalt orbs narrowed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Completely fine." Demyx nodded again as if to back up his words. "You said looks? You don't think he is?" He asked, his brows furrowing. He was genuinely curious as to why Zexion didn't think he was the right guy, but that didn't mean that it hurt to have the subject changed.

The criminal shook his head, leaning back in his chair in just the slightest way. Demyx was acting strangely, looking at him like…he didn't know. But he didn't appreciate staring, and whatever kind of staring he was doing earlier put him on edge. And now it seemed as though he was intentionally avoiding looking at him. It didn't make any sense to him. All he knew was that he didn't like it. "No, I don't. I can't quite put my finger on it, though. He has the credentials. He's an ex-soldier, so it wouldn't be difficult for him to overpower someone else because of his extensive training, and the majority of the community comes to his shop weekly. He's smart, calculating. I find it doubtful that he doesn't know everyone's schedules. It would be easy for him to follow people without anything seeming unusual.

"And then, there's his brother and his job description. His brother suffers from extreme anxiety and, because of that he was prescribed Xanax over a year ago. Sephiroth is the one who picks the prescription up monthly, so it is completely possible that he stole some from the hospital while picking it up or simply stole it from the prescription itself, which would explain why his brother acted so strangely around the others earlier today. Sephiroth is also a practiced butcher. He's experienced in cutting skin and I doubt that he would have a problem moving from animals to humans. He seems to fit the mold of our killer perfectly."

"But you don't think he did it." Demyx said simply, watching as the other's mouth quirked to the side just a bit in thought, his nose scrunching.

"I don't." Zexion let out a light sigh, tapping at his jaw with the pencil's end, his finger's twisting it in between them. "He just seems to fit the mold _too _perfectly. There's something off about it. It's like all of this was planned by someone else."

Demyx leaned forward slightly, coming just a touch closer to the other. Zexion didn't seem to notice. "So you think he was framed."

"It certainly seems that way." The criminal answered instantly, his voice a little aloof as he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling, letting his head loll back. "The man we're looking for is smart, is he not? I doubt that he would let everything fall into place _this _easily. It doesn't really seem right."

"No…I guess it doesn't." The blond answered truthfully. With analyzing eyes, he watched as that pencil twisted and knotted in between pale knuckles, moving in carefully calculated circles. Twist, turn, knot, fall, twist, turn, knot, fall. Over and over and over again, like some sort of inaudible mantra. "But are you sure it wasn't planned to be this way? If the killer is a smart as you think he is, wouldn't it be perfectly logical for him to have set _himself _up in this way so that we would second guess everything?"

"It would be perfectly logical for him to do something like that, but I don't think that is the case with this. It _is _possible, though." Cobalt eyes narrowed in just the slightest way, slate brows furrowing. "It's something to think about."

"Yeah…" Twist, turn, knot, fall, twist, turn, knot, fall. "Something to think about."

Zexion let his head fall so that he was no longer looking up towards the ceiling. He _knew _it; Demyx was staring again. But it didn't seem as though he was staring at his entire form like he had been originally. He moved his hand to the left a little bit, letting the pencil falter in his grip for just a moment before he began to turn it again. Demyx followed the movement, oceanic pools wide as they watched. Internally, the criminal growled. "Demyx, what are you doing?"

Those blue orbs snapped to his face, locking on to his own deep blue pair. He smiled in that sheepish way of his before biting at his bottom lip, seemingly thinking. Silence settled over them for a moment or two before the older let a lazy smile form on his lips. "Do you want to dance?" Demyx asked suddenly.

And Zexion did the only thing he could do. He tilted his head to the side and let out an incredulous "_Excuse me_?"

The blond just smiled, standing up and turning the dial on the radio by his bed, letting the music's beat fill and echo throughout the room. "Come on, you know, dance. Dance with me." Demyx nodded his head with the music, extending his hand towards the other, a slight swing in his hips.

"What does _dancing _have to do with anything?" The younger choked, pushing back in his chair so that he was as far away from that hand as physically possible. Of all the stupid idiotic things the other could do, he chose dancing? At a time like this? When there might just be a break in the case?

"Nothing at all." Demyx said pleasantly, grabbing the other by his wrists and hauling him up so that they were nearly chest to chest. Zexion glared at him, but the blond just smiled. He moved his hips experimentally, causing the other to bite his lower lip, his hands shaking a bit in his grip. And the older stopped. "Don't tell me you've never danced before."

The younger huffed, tugging at his wrist futilely. "I've never had the need to." He stated after a while, when it became apparent that Demyx wasn't going to let him go.

The blond's jaw dropped. "You've never danced? And you're still alive?"

Zexion scowled, giving his arms another tug. "Yes. I've never danced and I'm _obviously _still alive. Now will you _please _let go of me? I have better things to do."

Demyx just smiled, pulling the other that much closer. "I'll let you go if you agree to dance with me."

"I think we've already established that I don't want to dance with you. Now, le—"

"I'm not letting you go until you dance with me." Demyx replied cheekily. "Come on, dance with me for one song and you can go back to doing whatever you were doing. Sound like a plan?"

The younger sighed, letting his shoulders sag in defeat. "Something tells me that I don't have a choice."

"Nope. None at all." The blond smiled, releasing his wrists and watching as Zexion let them fall to his sides. Pleased with himself, he turned the radio up, swinging his hips as he circled back to the other and pulled him against him, moving his hips against his in a way that was nearly suggestive. Pale lips pursed, but Zexion said nothing, simply letting the other pull him along.

And after a minute or two, he wasn't being pulled along anymore.

He was moving on his own, following the other around the room, letting their lips brush, letting their arms touch. The song changed. Once, twice, three times, and the one song rule didn't seem to exist anymore. With an infectious smile, Demyx pulled the other towards him, letting their lips ghost against one another before pushing the other away and sending him into an impromptu twirl, one that set him off balance and had him falling back into his side with a little laugh. And they just kept going. Going and going and going, dancing around the room with contagious smiles and bumping into each other with fumbling limbs that didn't seem to know where they were supposed to be.

And it didn't make any sense.

None of it made sense. They shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't be moving around one another, or smiling at one another in such a way. They shouldn't be nuzzling against one another every other second, teasing each other with touches that shouldn't have happened in the first place. It didn't make sense. It just didn't make sense. Demyx was too concerned with saving lives to act like such a teenager, pulling his crush along some carpeted hotel room floor, and Zexion was too closed off, too concerned with his freedom to allow himself to be lead around, to allow himself to act like such a child.

_But it didn't matter, because it didn't make sense._

And that probably made the most sense of all.

Laughing brilliantly, they fell back against Demyx's bed, Zexion hitting the cushions first, the other holding himself up above him. For a moment, they just looked at each other, dark and oceanic blue pools staring, foreheads nearly touching as the song changed over, fast becoming slow. And Zexion smiled, his chest heaving from exhaustion, leaning upwards in just the slightest way, their chests touching suggestively. With his eyes never leaving those oceanic pools, he ghosted their lips together so that they were just barely touching.

And when Demyx kissed back, he knew it was wrong. He knew that everything was wrong. He shouldn't be doing this, taking advantage of someone who obviously didn't know what it really meant to feel. He shouldn't be so absorbed in something that wasn't the case and he shouldn't be positioning his hands behind the other's head, cradling it as their lips mingled, moving with one another in some instinctive motion. It was all wrong and he knew it.

But he didn't care. Right now, in this one moment, he didn't really care about anything that wasn't right in front of him. What he wanted — _Zexion_— was being served to him on a silver platter and for just this once, he wasn't going to think about everyone else. He was going to think about the two of him and what _he _wanted.

The blond pushed his tongue forward slowly, probing against the other's lips until they opened with a gasp, allowing him access to the warm canal that tasted faintly of lavender. Slowly, sensually, they ran their tongues together, fighting for dominance against the other. And it was strange because, when they pulled apart, a thin strand of saliva connecting their lips, neither of them had won. And neither of them really seemed to care.

Zexion's breath hitched as the music started to go faster, that strand of saliva falling and trailing down his cheek. He didn't like to be touched, yet he could bring himself to care when Demyx's hands started to roam down his chest, his movements slow and sure. The other smiled at him seductively, oceanic eyes hooded as he leaned, pushing Zexion farther into the bed, sucking on his jawline and running quick, butterfly kisses down his neck and onto his collarbone.

And all he could think as those calloused fingertips started to crawl up his borrowed shirt was that this shouldn't be happening. That he shouldn't be letting this happen. He didn't have time for this. This wasn't helping him. He needed his freedom; he needed to solve this case. He didn't need this unnecessary distraction. He didn't need the kisses or the touches. He didn't need any of it.

But, strangely, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You okay?" Demyx whispered against his earlobe, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it. And all Zexion could do was squirm against him, this unknown pressure building in his stomach, grounding him. He could feel the blond's smirk as he pulled himself away from him, sliding those hands over his chest, touching at those two little places of unprotected peaked skin. The criminal gasped, closing his eyes and just _feeling _for a change.

And it was magnificent.

He didn't protest when Demyx pulled his shirt up over his head, throwing it into some random corner of the room, and he didn't protest when those roaming hands started to play with the hem of his pants, Demyx's hot, moist mouth positioned at his chest, licking at him and igniting sparks within him that he didn't even know existed.

He let out a long moan, and Demyx couldn't keep the smile off his face. He simply let it devour him, silently pulling at the other's rosebuds with his teeth and biting down in just the slightest way. And when his fingers slipped down the criminal's front and gripped at his manhood hidden within his jeans, he knew he should feel bad. He knew he should be ashamed of himself for this and he knew that he was going to regret it later.

But right now, he really didn't care.

He pressed their lips together again—throaty, passionately—as his fingertips worked on the jean's zipper, each clasp coming apart after what seemed to be an eternity. He slid the pants down the other's hips with ease, watching with mesmerized eyes as the younger kicked them off his skinny ankles, allowing them to slide to the edge of the bed and fall off in a heap. And he could feel Zexion smirk against his lips as those pale, porcelain fingertips slid along his back, touching each knot in his spine shamefully, running along each lean muscle with little hesitation.

Reluctantly, they pulled apart, and all Demyx could do was stare. Stare at the beautiful person before him, his thin chest rising and falling rapidly, fading bruises blotching his perfect skin. And the song changed again—the beat slow and haunting—and all the blond could do was smile lovingly at the other's glazed eyes, ghosting the pads of his fingers over each and every bruise, leaning down to kiss at them with chapped lips. Zexion sighed as he moved, squirming with each and every touch, that pressure in his gut building and building.

And suddenly he stopped, eyeing the other with those glazed blue eyes, a lazy smile stretching across his pale, pale lips. Demyx tilted his head to the side, leaning down and pressing their lips together chastely. "What is it?" He whispered, their lips still touching, just barely touching.

The criminal gave the other an experimental lick along his cheek, liking the way the texture pressed against his tongue, and he gave the other's shirt a sharp tug, his fists knotting in the fabric. "You too." Was all he said.

And that was enough.

Before long, the two of them were moving against one another on the bed, naked chests rubbing together sensually, pale legs mingling with tanned ones as they danced whatever kind of dance they wanted it to be, following along with the beat of the music as the songs switched and switched. Slow, then fast, then faster, then slow again, over and over and over. Their lips would touch here and there, sweaty hips moving against the other's to create a friction that wasn't good enough—would never been good enough.

And then Zexion was pushed back against the headboard, Demyx's hands running up and down his inner thighs, coming closer and closer to the angered arousal that the criminal just wanted to go away, the reddened head pressing against his underwear, making him whine and plead with pathetic whimpers as Demyx's fingertips would press down and then disappear. Then the sweet torture was over, the blond sliding his underwear down his hips and away from the bed, running his calloused fingers through his curled pubic hairs.

The criminal brought his fingers to his mouth, biting into them to keep the noises at bay as Demyx descended over him, his mouth blowing hot, warm, _moist _air along his arousal. And he knew he should hate this. He knew he should push him away and just disappear, pretend like this had never happened. But it was just so warm and the _pressure _building along his intestines—it just wouldn't go away. He couldn't make it go away.

And then Demyx was fully on him, touching him in places that he'd never even touched, that moist tongue licking at his underside while those fingers of his moved along his sack, massaging them as he sucked him in, farther and farther with every second until Zexion's head was touching him at the back of his throat. And Zexion just wanted the pressure to go away, his hips thrusting erratically, both hands clamped over his mouth to keep him quiet. And he knew it wasn't working.

Then the song changed again, Demyx pulling away from him with an audible _pop_, a smile on his lips as he pulled those slender hands away from those pale lips and kissed the other, letting the faint taste of pre-cum infiltrate the criminal's mouth, moving along his tongue and lodging in his throat like an incurable aftertaste. He pulled away after only a moment, placing a few digits at Zexion's mouth and watching, enthralled as he clamped those lips around them and sucked, coating each with a thick coating of saliva, that little pink tongue of his following them as they were pulled away.

The blond shot him a cocky smile as he positioned himself between the other's legs. Zexion looked at him for a moment, completely naked, a dark red blush on his cheeks, and shyly spread his legs just a little bit wider, allowing the older of them better access to his most private place. And he wasn't going to lie. He felt vulnerable, exposed as Demyx massaged his ringed muscle, letting one finger slid in past the knuckle with one go. He tensed, his chest heaving in just the slightest way as the blond smiled at him encouragingly.

It felt uncomfortable and awkward, and he didn't like it. He didn't like having a foreign thing inside him and he didn't like feeling like he was so weak. Like he had no control. But the heat, the pressure curling in his belly willed him to relax, to let Demyx slide another finger in and scissor them, a sore sort of feeling grabbing onto him and making him whimper in just the slightest way, earning him a kiss on the side of the mouth from the man above him. And by the time that third finger pushed into him, he just wanted it to end. He wanted it all to just go away, the heat pooling within him, the fingers pushing into places that they just didn't belong. He wanted it gone.

And then he screamed, his eyes closing as tightly as he could manage, his hands grasping at the sheets beneath him, Demyx's finger's pushing and probing in that place that made everything white, that made everything just go away. And then it was all gone. The fingers were no longer pushing into him; that white light was no longer dancing behind his eyes. He whimpered, and he could feel the other over him, holding his body up with his palms on either side of the criminal's head. The blond let out a long sigh, pressing their hips together, one clothed erection rubbing against naked skin, as the song changed once again, their lips pressing together again and molding in sync with the music, tongues mingling together once again.

After a moment, the older pulled away, watching the younger with wide blue eyes as those pale lids opened slowly, dark eyes staring at him, that slate fringe skewed about, clinging to his forehead from the sweat. And Demyx didn't know what he was doing when he stared into those eyes. They were so open, so _trusting_. They were nothing like the closed-off blue orbs he saw the other wear every day. They weren't calculating or cold. They were just beautiful, untainted by the evils in the world.

Zexion's head tilted to the side when the other didn't move, his chest still heaving from that unexplainable pleasure from only moments before. Hesitantly, he pushed forward, pressing their lips together, chastely, sweetly. And Demyx could only kiss back, nuzzling at his neck before grabbing onto those milky inner thighs and positioning himself, sliding his own pair of underwear down his hips as he did so. "Are you ready?" He whispered, his breath moving into the other's ear and causing a shiver to run down his boney spine, his toes curling against the sheets. "Is this okay? Do you want to do this?" He asked slowly, carefully—because he would never be able to forgive himself if the other didn't want to and he did anyway.

Zexion just looked at him, those innocent eyes that had seen so much outlined in the black of sleepless nights. It seemed like an eternity that they just stared at one another, blue on blue, skin on skin. And then, the younger smiled, leaning up in his elbows and whispering in the other's ear. "_Yes_."

And that was all it took.

**K3YBLAD3**

Blood.

Blood.

_Blood_.

He smiled that crooked, nasty smile, pulling the hammer back and smashing it down. Screams, screams, screams, over and over and over, singing those lovely songs in his head as the bones were smashed. Tendons snapped with the force as he brought it down again and again. More blood. More screams. It didn't matter. She could scream as much as she wanted, plead with him as much as she wanted with that damned voice, telling him lies. Lies, lies, and more lies. No. She wasn't allowed to live. Her darkness was ending. She could never have it again. She could never _lie_ to him again.

Finally, he let the hammer drop to the ground, the screams having long since died out. Specks of blood dotted his skin, sliding down his cheeks and disappearing into his shirt, running down his collarbone in long, twisted streams. His shirt, his gloves, his pants, _everything _was stained with that dark blood. And he just smiled as he looked upon the mangled body beneath him, chunks of butchered meat strewn about, held together by cracked and blistered pale skin. He laughed as he saw the bones sticking out, naked in places, muscles pulled away from the bone, marrow seeping through the sponged areas.

Beautiful.

Simply beautiful.

The darkness was gone, and this damn _witch _had gotten what she deserved. And it was all because of him. He was the one who did it. _Him_. Not those damn detectives who thought they knew everything, who always got _everything_. No, no. This was all him. He was the one who was saving them all. They'd see. One day soon, they would all see.

"I told you I didn't like liars, didn't I?" He snarled as he fell to his knees, bits and pieces of fatty tissue staining his pants legs with clotted blood. "But you lied to me. Oh yes you did. You've been lying to me since the very beginning, haven't you? **HAVEN'T YOU!**" With tensed fingers, he pulled the knife from his pocket, carving with malicious intent across that forehead of hers, not even caring when the bones beneath his fingers began to crack from the pressure.

And he laughed at those dull yellow eyes when he was finished, cackling like a maniac, smearing his gloved hands in the blood with relish. "But that's okay. You're all better now, aren't you? No more darkness. No, no. All your darkness is gone."

**K3YBLAD3**

Slender fingers knotted, turning white at the knuckles as Zexion kneeled, slate hair falling into his face as he retched. His knees trembled as they held him up, tired and hurting. He was vaguely aware of the way his lips trembled, his throat burned as the stomach acid came up, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. All he knew was that everything hurt and it was his own fault. His own stupid fault. He was the one who caused this; he was the one to blame.

He let out a pained whimper as he attempted to stand, boney knees knocking together, his lower back protesting, a faint amount of blood staining the borrowed shirt he was using in an attempt to cover himself. He grabbed on to the towel rack, using it to steady himself before he reached for the sink, falling towards it and barely managing to catch himself. A shaky sigh passed through his kiss-bruised lips as he looked at himself in the mirror, the faint morning light seeping in, casting dark shadows all throughout the bathroom.

He looked like a wreck. His hair was bunched around his head in clumps, courtesy of dancing and sex and wallowing about all night long. Both deeply set blue eyes were visible, rimmed in red and glazed with unshed tears, dark circles outlining them. Dark red-purple patches could be found all over him, hickeys from Demyx, sore and throbbing without really hurting him. He could feel his entire body shaking, trembling with something that wasn't really pain.

And he just wanted it to all end, to all go away. He wasn't himself anymore. He wasn't who he was the day before and the day before that or…ever. He was someone he didn't recognize. Someone weak, someone lost. Someone _worthless_. _Unnecessary_. _Unwanted_. He didn't want to be this person. He didn't want to be this scared, childish person. He didn't want to be so lost, so weak that he couldn't take care of himself. He didn't want them to be right.

He didn't want them all to have been right about him all along.

"Zexion?" He flinched, muscles tensing at that voice. That sweet, worried voice that people like him just didn't deserve. "Hey…are you okay?" A knock on the door, followed by the turning of the knob. The lock twitched at the movement but didn't open. Zexion just stared at the door, shaking his head and knotting his fingers into fists around the shirt he'd borrowed, knuckles knocking into his outer thighs with surprising force. "Oh Ze— I swear, I-I didn't mean—did I hurt you? Or…oh." He heard the other huff with frustration, and he could imagine him pulling at his hair from behind the door, those oceanic eyes that could never hurt him wide.

He hated himself for this. He _hated _himself.

"This can never happen again." He said, voice shaking—vulnerable, _scared_.

"But…Zexion? Are you…" His voice trailed off, and silence fell over them. Zexion could hear himself take in shaky breath after shaky breath, his neck tense, eyes squeezing shut.

"Okay." And that's all Demyx said, his voice tired and sullen.

And Zexion didn't have to be a detective to know that the tears dropping into the sink weren't tears from any physical pain.

* * *

**A/N: Does anyone else hate me for this? I swear! This isn't how it was supposed to be, but my plot is all messed up and chapters have had to be moved and parts are being added in and I just don't understand _any _of it anymore. It's all just so...mixed up. *sigh***

**As for notes on this chapter, the sex scene came out awkward and a little out there, but I'm not entirely displeased with it. At first, I was really worried that it would ruin the story (and I still kind of am), but I think it fit with things well enough considering the amount of scenes I've had to change around. I hope so anyway...**

**Also, on another note, Kadaj is a freak and does anyone else notice how _insane _my killer is becoming? **

**Production: Okay, here's the deal: I'm tired. Sick and tired and busy and... a lot of other things. School hates me, my college teacher wants me to go see a play and write a research paper on critics (?) and I don't have any time for anything anymore. The only reason this chapter is done so much earlier than I planned is because I _haven't_ been doing my homework, and I can't keep doing that. So, I'll base next months production rate on however many reviews I get for this. Originally, I was going to try for three, but we'll see. **

**Quiz Winner(s): No quiz last chapter.**

**Quiz: Why did I choose to give this chapter the name Fatal Crest since that keyblade can be put in at any time? There are plenty of reasons, but I'm looking for one specifically. Also, how do you think the sex scene came out? Was it too rushed or did it seem _too_ out there? **

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^_^**


	17. Mysterious Abyss

**And I'm back. Sort of...**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~! **

**Also, this chapter, like the last few, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know! **

**Enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

Emerald eyes narrowed suspiciously as Zexion sat beside him, falling into his chair and curling into himself, his eyes downcast and hooded by his slate fringe. He cast Demyx a questioning look over the table, watching as those blue orbs glazed in just the slightest way and the blond just shook his head, turning away. Axel's lips thinned into a tight, white line. They both looked awful. Demyx's hair was greasier than he'd ever seen it, hanging limply about his face, and those normally bright eyes looked dull and lifeless, seemingly looking at nothing. And then Zexion…he looked physically sick, his abnormally pale skin a bit paler than usual, a faint green tint bathing his strangely gaunt cheeks. His clothes were rumpled in places, barely hanging on to his hips and shoulders, a small portion of his collarbone exposed. And his eyes. It looked as if someone had finally broken him.

Something was definitely wrong.

"It's nice of you two to finally join us." Leon stated emotionlessly near the head of the table, a yellow folder held in his hands. Demyx nodded tiredly, glancing at Leon fleetingly, while Zexion seemingly didn't hear him, his eyes still trained on the tabletop. The brunette scowled. "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourselves?" He asked, a trace of venom in his voice. "We're in the process of tracking down a serial killer, and the two of you just decide to show up over half an hour late? I expected better from you, Demyx."

Axel watched as the blond's fists clenched noticeably, his stubby fingernails digging into the table. "Sorry." He mumbled. "It was just—"

Xemnas cleared his throat, effectively cutting him off. He gave the blond a meaningful sort of look that lasted for less than a second, before casting his eyes towards Zexion and back. The blond bit his lower lip shamefully, and that's all Xemnas needed to know. "I believe we have more important matters to discuss here. And, while lateness is not something I excuse easily, I believe it would be best if we let it slide this time as long as it doesn't happen again. Wouldn't you agree, Leon?" Begrudgingly, Leon nodded, giving the criminal a scornful glare out of the corner of his eye as he did so. "Excellent. Now, Mr. Thompson, please inform us of the latest crime."

"Oh, of course." Sora coughed into his palm. "Earlier this morning, Tifa Lockhart, the local bartender, found Maleficent Drake's body. According to the on-scene police, this murder has been the most violent of them all." The young brunette gulped, placing a few pictures towards the middle of the table. The pictures were tinted with red, blood splattering the corpse within them. "As you can see, the killer has…become much more forceful with his victims."

"Has Larxene uncovered anything about the body yet?" Riku asked, picking one of the photos up and balancing it between two of his fingers, studying the way the bones and muscles twisted around one another.

Sora shook his head, letting his brown spikes bounce against his cheeks. "No. As far as I know, she's still trying to pick up the pieces and put them back together."

"So we have nothing so far?" Riku stated more than asked, letting the picture slide from in between his fingers and fall back onto the table unceremoniously.

"Tifa Lockhart." Zexion whispered, seemingly talking to himself, his slender arms coming up to encircle his waistline. "Isn't she the one who Sephiroth paid to haul off his old meat freezer? That links her to two of the murders."

Xemnas quirked his head to the side in just the slightest way, his silver hair falling along his shoulders. "I suppose it does, doesn't it? Well then, Roxas, I want you to gather as much information as you can on Ms. Lockhart. Demyx, you can help him with that, if you'd like. Leon, Riku, I want for the two of you to bring her in for questioning. Find out why she was there and, while you're at it, ask her about her arrangement with Mr. Franks. I would like to know her side of the story. And Sora, I want you to go and visit Larxene down in the morgue. Two heads are better than one and I'm sure she would appreciate the help. Am I understood?" The team members in question nodded, causing the oldest among them to smile, folding his hands in front of him and leaning against them. "Excellent."

The redhead looked Zexion up and down before leaning back in his chair and stretching his long, long legs. "What about the two of us?" He pointed his thumb at the criminal. If Zexion heard him, he didn't acknowledge it.

"You two will be coming with me." Xemnas stated simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world for the head of their company to willingly pair himself with an employee that he obviously disliked and a convicted killer. "I'd like to check out the scene of the crime. Is there a problem with that, Mr. Jendriard?"

Axel shook his head, smirking. "Not a one."

Xemnas nodded curtly in acknowledgment, languidly pushing back his chair and standing so that he towered over the team. "Since time is of the essence, I'd prefer it if we all get started sooner rather than later. I would like to leave within the next half an hour. By the time I get back I want some _solid _evidence brought in. This man has already messed up more than once. The thread that Mr. Schewyer found at the scene of the third crime was his first mistake. And there are more. These mistakes will lead us to him, one by one. We cannot allow him to kill again." And with that, he left, squaring his shoulders and heading towards the door, the sound of his black boots stepping against the carpeting echoing in their ears.

After a moment, Leon cleared his throat. "You heard him; let's go." He stood, crossing his arms and squaring his jaw at Riku, signaling for him to follow him out. He stopped behind Demyx's chair, grabbing on to the back of it and sending a glare at the back of the blond's head. "Once this is all over, I want to have a talk with you." He stated menacingly before moving the rest of the way to the door, the profiler at this heels.

The redheaded detective cocked one of his thin eyebrows, watching as Zexion slowly stood on wobbly legs, his eyes downcast as he made his way out as well. Yes. Something was most definitely wrong with this picture. With a light sigh, he brought his chair forward, placing his elbows on the table so that he was fully facing the junior detective, a scowl set firmly on his thin lips. "Hey, Roxy?" He said disinterestedly without looking away from the blond across from him.

Roxas let out a long, annoyed sigh, letting his honey blond locks sway forward as he did so. "I wish you wouldn't call me that." He mumbled, sending the other a barely recognizable glare. Axel didn't seem to notice or care, causing the blond to roll his eyes. "What do you want?" He finally asked once it became apparent that Axel wasn't about to acknowledge him any time soon. It wasn't like he really cared if the redhead noticed him or not. Honestly, it was much less of a headache when he didn't.

"I need you to leave. I want to have a little talk with Dem-Dem here." One honey eyebrow quirked, but Roxas just looked between the two— at the way that Demyx seemed nothing short of miserable, at the way that Axel seemed nothing short of determined— and let it go. He didn't need the headache and it wasn't like he wasn't a little worried as well. So he let Axel's biting tone go, preferring instead to simply shake his head and retreat to the nearest computer. Axel could make it up to him later.

As soon as the blond had disappeared into one of the far corners of the room, Axel ran one of his boney hands through his flaming red hair, letting another sigh escape his lips. "What the hell is going on, Dem? Everything was fine yesterday. I mean, I didn't really see you or Zexion all that much, but I think I would have noticed something as apparent as well," he held up both of his hands and gestured towards the blond, moving them in a sweeping motion, "_this_."

"I…" The blond started and trailed off, shaking his head and tapping his fingertips against the table in a slow, uneven rhythm. He felt even more miserable than he looked, his worn looking eyes not being able to convey the sheer amount of hopelessness he felt. Everything was his fault. If he hadn't been so idiotic— so _selfish_, then none of this would have happened. He knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't just lost in the heat of the moment. He had wanted Zexion— he _still _wanted Zexion. And because of that, he hadn't really thought about what it would feel like for Zexion. He knew he was fragile, just now starting to put back all the broken pieces, and yet, he'd gone and done something so selfish and irresponsible and…. He'd done everything wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. "I messed everything up." He finally whispered, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head again as if it would make everything go away.

And Axel just watched him. He loved Demyx. It wasn't the kind of love that required kissing and hugging and bringing him over to meet the folks, or anything of the sort. It was the kind of love that grows over time, the kind that you get when you just know you've met someone who's going to be your friend for the rest of your life. Someone you don't see yourself being able to live without. And Axel loved Demyx like that friend that he didn't see himself being able to live without.

"That doesn't really tell me anything." He stated softly. "Start at the beginning."

Demyx snorted abruptly, a humorless, near heartbreaking sort of sound. "Where's the beginning?" He asked, oceanic orbs drifting towards the tabletop where his fingers resumed their tapping, that uneven rhythm echoing against their owner's ears. He really didn't know where to start or how to explain it all. There was something about Zexion that just drew him forward, that made him want him. He was flawed just like everyone else— not like the books say that special someone is supposed to be. But it didn't really matter, because Demyx was okay with his faults. He was okay with the things he had done in his past. They didn't matter to him; at least, not really. To him, Zexion was…he wasn't everything, but he was close. And he loved him. Demyx loved him. He was _in _love with him.

And now that he'd admitted it, it just made everything seem that much worse.

"Okay." Axel let out another sigh, this one longer, more exhausted. "How about you just tell me about yesterday? Start there. Tell me what happened between the two of you."

Calloused fingers stopped, their rhythm dying out. "I was staring."

Thin eyebrows rose when it became apparent that Demyx wasn't going to say any more. "I'm going to need a little more than that, Dem." The redhead kept his voice soft, comforting.

The blond sighed, blinking tiredly. "I was staring and Zexion noticed. So he asked about it and then we talked about the case, but I wasn't really paying much attention to it because he was right there, doing that thing he does sometimes without even realizing it. I was distracted. And then I asked him to dance. I don't know why I did it, really, but I did. Then one thing lead to another and I just— it wasn't supposed to happen. It was _not _supposed to happen." Demyx leaned back, letting his arms fall to his sides and staring up at the ceiling.

Emerald eyes watched him, quietly taking in how dejected the other sounded, his voice wispy and low. "That doesn't really—"

"We had sex." The blond let his head fall back forward, his oceanic orbs watching the way that Axel's eyes widened in just the slightest way, his body tensing almost imperceptibly. "It wasn't supposed to happen and I was stupid and an idiot and all those other things that we all know I am and— I fucked up, Axel. He seemed okay with it at the time, but…I should have known better— I should have _known_ and I _did_; I just didn't _stop_. But everything was fine, honestly. Perfectly fine and I thought everything would be okay and we fell asleep and I woke up and he was just gone. Completely gone. And then he was in the bathroom telling me that it didn't happen. And— what if I actually hurt him? He won't talk to me at all and— I am just so _stupid_." He buried his face in his palms, letting Axel decipher everything on his own. He knew he probably wasn't making very much sense. And that was fine, because he wasn't really thinking very sensibly right now anyway.

"That's…not what I expected." Axel sort of mumbled, his voice low as he mulled it over in his head. Honestly, he didn't know what to tell him. This wasn't really the sort of thing that he could fix for him; it wouldn't do either of them any good. But he couldn't leave things as they were either. "Listen, Dem, you're not stupid and you're not an idiot, so stop saying you are, okay? I don't really know what to tell you, but…maybe the two of you should just try to talk it out. It couldn't hurt."

Demyx ran his hands through his hair, moving his hands away from his face. "That doesn't really—I don't think that would be such a good idea. Zexion doesn't really want me anywhere near him right now, and I don't really blame him."

"Then give him a little time. He's paired with me and the boss today and you're going to be here with Roxas, so the two of you don't even have to be in the same room. And, hey, I'll switch rooms with you at the hotel. You can stay with Roxy and I'll look after Zexion." He shrugged, playing it off even as he saw Demyx's shoulders lift in just the slightest way. "That way, the two of you don't even have to share a room. How does that sound?"

"That would be…really great." And Axel would be lying if he said the sheer amount of relief in that voice didn't affect him.

"So, it's settled. I'll stay with Zexion; you'll stay with Roxas. And tomorrow will be another day. Don't worry so much."

**K3YBLAD3**

Zexion wrinkled his nose in disgust, feeling his stomach twist dangerously at the sight before him. He was a serial killer. He accepted that. Not so long ago, he had killed people. But he'd never done something like this. He'd never literally _beaten _them to death. He'd never listened to them scream and beg and plead. He'd never crushed bone and knotted muscles, tendons, and everything else. He'd never been this kind of killer. Merciless. Cruel. _Insane_.

No. This man was nothing like him.

"As you can see, our killer seems to have had some sort of a personal connection to this person, based on the amount of violence he brought forth in her murder." Xemnas stated disinterestedly, handing the criminal a pair of latex gloves and snapping his own into place. "That was certainly a mistake. All of the other murders have been colder, more precise. And that will definitely work in our favor. After all, I don't see him being able to cause this amount of damage without leaving some form of evidence behind, do you, Mr. Schewyer?"

Zexion shook his head lightly, letting the constricting gloves slide over his skin and hug his emaciated wrists. Xemnas smiled at him— the kind of smile a parent bestows upon their child— before stepping closer to the central point of the room, where the bloodstains were the heaviest, his head cocked to the side as he took in the scene. "I believe that our killer stood, or possibly crouched over our victim, hitting her with some type of object— blunt presumably. If he was caught in the heat of the moment, which he most certainly was, he would have brought the weapon all the way back for the optimal swing." He brought his hands back like he was holding an imaginary bat, bringing them down again to rest at his sides. "The method worked well."

Axel scoffed, searching through one of the overturned cabinet drawers, careful to avoid the sticky dried blood that splotched across its surface. "Yeah, well for him maybe."

"Of course." Xemnas hummed while making his way over to a set of blood-splattered glass cabinets, the contents within making his stomach churn much more than the scene itself did. "It seems as though our fortune teller was more of a witch. I highly doubt that any of these are legal." He commented idly.

Curiously, the youngest among them glanced at the cabinets before shaking his head again and making his way towards the darkest part of the room. It really did seem as though no part of the room was completely devoid of blood, the crime being much worse than the pictures portrayed it to be. It was worse than a simple overkill; it was much more like a massacre.

Cringing, he bent down, trying to ignore the slight twinge of pain that traveled up his spine at the action. It didn't really hurt and it didn't really bother him, but he couldn't help but think about how it happened. How everything happened. How the amount of blood in the room sickened him in a way that paled in comparison to the way his stomach lurched at the faint line of it he found between his thighs only a few hours before. How Demyx had sounded so heartbroken, and how he couldn't even look at him without thinking, _feeling _all those things that he really couldn't deal with. He just couldn't.

He couldn't let himself be that weak. That dependent upon someone else. As a child, he had never had anyone to lean on. He'd always been by himself. Always. It was who he was, and he came out better for it. But then Lexaeus had come, and he realized how lonely he'd always been. Lexaeus took all that loneliness away— and Demyx was right. He did idealize him like a father, even if he had denied the fact when the blond had brought it up. It was painfully obvious once he thought back on it. Lexaeus had paid attention to him, always coming to his award ceremonies and taking him places, teaching him how to do things. He had wanted to make Lexaeus happy, to please him, even if it meant killing someone.

So he did.

He let all logic go and did exactly what Lexaeus told him to do. He trusted him with everything, let himself become completely dependent upon him. And where had it all gotten him? In jail with no chance of parole. Disowned with no friends, no family. Nothing. It had all gotten him nothing. He had ended up just as alone and lonely as he had always been. It was a stupid and childish attempt on his part, and he was never going to let himself make the same mistakes again.

Giving himself to Demyx like he had the night before? Letting Demyx control him, becoming completely dependent? No. That couldn't happen again. He couldn't let himself become so weak again, become that person that his parents always told him he was. He couldn't get hurt like that again.

He didn't think he'd survive it again.

And it didn't matter. None of it did. His thoughts, his feelings, what it felt like to have someone _care_— it really didn't matter. He was here to keep from having to go back to Hollow Bastion. He was here to get his freedom back. That was all. Everything else…was just white noise. Distractions that he couldn't deal with. Maybe if things were different, if their circumstances were different things could work out. In another world, maybe things would be perfect. But here and now— no. It just couldn't happen.

As dark blue eyes glazed at nothing, Zexion wondered why that thought bothered him so much.

"I believe…there's something I need to take care of." Zexion shook his head to push the thoughts away, swiveling it to stare at Xemnas, watching as his latex-coated fingertips seemed to clench around the back of the chair he was standing behind, his voice still holding that same disinterested air it always seemed to, yet somehow wrong. "The two of you should finish up here and give Demyx a call. He has a car, correct?"

"Yeah, sure." Axel mumbled under his breath, holding a piece of adipose tissue in between his thumb and forefinger, squishing it with a sort of morbid fascination— it seemed as though Larxene had missed a piece.

"Excellent. I doubt I'll be back to the office at any point today, but I expect to see everyone ready for tomorrow, all findings filed and placed on my desk. And I expect the two of you to pass that along to the others as well." With a practiced move, Xemnas slid the gloves from his hands, letting them roll into an inside out pile before retreating towards the door. As he reached the knob, he paused looking back over his shoulder, his amber-orange eyes locking with Zexion's own blue pools. "Talking, Mr. Schewyer. I've come to find that it can be very beneficial." He stated wisely, that fatherly smile of his back on his face as he disappeared into the street.

The redhead raised an eyebrow at the criminal, flicking the adipose tissue towards him and watching it roll across the bloodied carpet, coming up several feet short of its target. "I know that Xemnas is one weird fucker half the time, but did that seem a little _off _to you?" Offhandedly, Zexion nodded, trying to force that fatherly smile out of his mind.

Honestly, he didn't think that he could deal with that either.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Have you always been this old?"

The criminal jerked backwards, his body tensing at the question, those blue eyes of his remaining locked on the window. "I don't know what you mean." He finally said after a moment of thought. And it was true. He really didn't know what Axel was referring too. Of course he hadn't always been this old; he aged just like everyone else.

"Dull." Axel reiterated briskly, falling onto Demyx's bed in a heap, his long limbs stretched out around him. "Boring. Uninteresting. I mean, watching the window is cool and all, but there's got to be _something_ better for you to do." The younger raised an eyebrow, glancing at the redhead disinterestedly before resuming his watching. Axel let out a growl, kicking his shoes at him childishly— they didn't even come close. "Come on. I know that you and Demyx _obviously _had better things to do, but—"

"We did not." Zexion ground out levelly, his body straightening protectively.

And Axel could only smirk that feral smirk of his at that. Hook, line, and _sinker_. "Denying the fact, Zexion? I've heard that it's bad for your health." The criminal tightened his jaw, knotting his fingers together in a way that was increasingly painful. He enjoyed manipulating people; he did notenjoy _being_ manipulated.

"I'm not denying anything."

The redhead snorted, sitting up on the bed in one graceful, practiced move. "Could've fooled me. But, hey, to each their own. It's not my fault that you don't want to talk about it."

Zexion scowled, letting out a sigh before rolling his eyes and taking a seat in one of the hotel's chairs. Axel was a rather difficult individual— something about him he had learned quickly— but it seemed as though he was going to realize just how difficult he could be firsthand. "I don't want to talk about it simply because there is nothing to talk about." _And it's not particularly any of your business either, _he wanted to add.

"Of course." The detective shot him an amused smile, the kind often reserved for somewhat dense children. "The two of you are just avoiding each other because you've come to the realization that you have some sort of allergy. I've heard that serial killers are seriously allergic to the 'happy,'" he air-quoted, "I doubt that you're the first to succumb to it."

"That's not amusing." And true to his statement, his scowl deepened. Axel's face fell comically. "And, like I said, there's nothing to talk about."

Emerald eyes glared at him, intensifying under those thin eyebrows of his. Fine. If Zexion wanted to be problematic, then he could be problematic. "You see, Zexion, that doesn't exactly work for me." He stood, cocking one hip to the side and leaning against the wall so that he towered over the other while still staying away. "Demyx is my friend and— well, I've said it before— I like you. Not like Demyx does, but hey, you're all right by me. However," he stretched that feral smile of his all the way across his lips, letting his teeth show, "as true as all that may be, if Demyx ends up hurt at the end of this you can kiss whatever freedom you have good-bye."

"Duly noted."

And Axel literally laughed at that voice, laced with barely concealed emotions. He pushed his entire body against the wall and just laughed, hysterical tears falling from his emerald eyes. And Zexion just watched, one eyebrow slightly cocked, his head tilted to the side in confusion. But that was fine, because as difficult as Axel was, he was at least twice as odd.

"Just promise me that you'll let him know that if he actually hurt you or not." Axel managed after a while, flopping back down on the bed in that practiced heap. "Not knowing is killing him."

The criminal looked at him, startled. Demyx thought that he…? Oh, no. Demyx could never; he wouldn't. Demyx wouldn't have done something like that. Not when— that's why he was avoiding him? Zexion was avoiding him too, but it wasn't because of that. No. He hadn't even thought about it, honestly. Was that why? "Is that why you're here instead of him?" he asked a little breathlessly, knotting his fingers together in his lap, twisting them over one another in an endless pattern, his voice soft and _weak _to his own ears.

The redhead raised an eyebrow, lifting his head up so he could look at the criminal with calculating eyes. "Yeah, I guess. He said that you didn't really want him anywhere around you, so I'm assuming that's what he thought when he agreed to switch rooms with me for the night. Pro'lly thought it would be better for you this way."

Zexion nodded minutely, pulling his bottom lip in between his two rows of teeth. He hadn't wanted this to happen; he hadn't wanted Demyx to get hurt. He had known that it was hurting him earlier, but he'd thought that maybe— maybe Demyx would just forget about it, like it truly hadn't happened. Of course, the younger realized how childish that was. Foolish and naïve. But he had hoped.

Silly, since hopes were really only for children.

"He didn't." Pale fingers stilled, twisted around one another to the point of pain, their knuckles a ghastly shade of white-washed pink. "He didn't hurt me."

Axel let his head collapse against the bed again, a strange sort of smile on his lips. "You're preachin' to the choir, kid. Tell him that."

He nodded again, more to reassure himself that he actually would, before standing and moving to his own bed, curling under the covers with the lights off and pulling them up to his chin protectively. This wasn't how things were supposed to be…

"Axel?"

"Hmm?" The detective sounded, rolling over in bed to face him in the dark, his normally feral features seeming duller, less intimidating.

"You said earlier that there had to be something better for me to do than look through the window all the time— that it was boring and dull, and that it was old, but it isn't. It isn't old at all." Zexion mumbled, yawning as he pushed against his pillows, the stress of the day leaking into his voice.

Axel propped his head up with his palm, holding himself above the bedframe with curious green eyes. "I don't follow you."

"It isn't old because…I did it as when I was younger too. I used to pretend that maybe if I watched long enough, maybe I could grow wings like the birds and disappear like they always did. Leave. Be someone… else…."

The redhead let out a sigh as those blue eyes slipped closed, his confession barely passed his pale lips. He couldn't help but smile tenderly at the other, falling back against the bed with a muffled _thump_, his eyes trained on the ceiling, a sinking feeling in his chest.

"Sweet dreams, kid. It sounds like you need them."

And even though Zexion couldn't hear him, it made him feel a little better.

**K3YBLAD3**

He almost wanted to believe that nothing was wrong when he walked through the door. Almost. But that was impossible, because there was no denying that the body before him was lifeless, frozen in place like a statue, ice droplets melting and sliding down the waxy skin. Behind him, he heard someone let out a hopeless sort of scream— not unlike a sob— as they spotted it just sitting there, as if nothing was amiss. Part of him wanted to scream too, fall to the floor into a broken heap of sobs and just cry for it all to end. He didn't. Instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat and took a step forward.

"Has anyone called Larxene yet?" He asked, wisps of blond hair falling into his face as his fists clenched at his sides. Leon looked at him out of the corner of his eye, letting out a long sigh and nodding.

"Sora found him." Was all he said. And it must have been true because the brunette's eyes were red-rimmed as he stared, his lips trembling as he leaned into Riku's side and let the other rub along his back.

Demyx nodded, pulling his lower lip into his mouth and chewing on the cracked tissue. He didn't particularly know what to say in a situation like this, where the body of the man in charge was frozen in place, pants legs cut open to reveal the carefully carved words. The blood was dried, and it looked as though he had gone peacefully. But what did it really matter at this point? They had lost someone else to this case— and he couldn't come back. He could never come back. "Do the others know?"

Leon gave another nod. "Larxene's on her way to get the body and take it down to the morgue and I gave Axel a call right after I talked to the two of you. He should be here within the hour."

"Xemnas." The blond mumbled, his jaw tight, his voice low. "His name is Xemnas and he's not an it."

"His name _was _Xemnas, Demyx." The lead detective sighed, his voice lacking all the bite that the words promised. "Xemnas is gone; this is just his body."

Oceanic blue eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He knew that Leon was right in a sense. The Xemnas that he had known was gone. And he understood that. He would never catch another criminal with that uncommon wit again. He would never give him that knowing look again. He would never cause his nerves to spike or his cheeks to redden at the mere mention of Zexion again. He would never laugh that laugh of his ever again or make little comments that kept Leon off his back. He would never do anything again, because…he was gone. Xemnas was gone.

But he _wasn't _just a body.

He wasn't just some other unnamed dead man. No. He was _Xemnas_. He had a name and a family. He had friends and loved ones. He had a legacy of being one of the best. And he had a _name_, because he was a _person_. Not a body. He was a person— not just a body— and he always would be. Just because he was gone now didn't mean that he had never been there, that he had never been alive. And he ref—

"Ah _Hell_." The blond jumped at the declaration, his eyes traveling to the door where Axel stood, his emerald eyes on the body, his jaw lax. Hidden behind him, Zexion stood, both eyes bare and shocked, one bony-thin hand knotting endlessly as it trembled. "Leon, you could've told me that it was _Xemnas _he got. Here I was thinkin' that he'd gotten ahold of one of the cops."

One dark brown eyebrow rose. "I was unaware that it mattered who the body belonged to. It doubtfully holds much bearing to the case, despite our own person feelings towards the man." Pointedly, he turned his gaze to Demyx, watching as those blue pools stared back challengingly. Leon could think what he wanted, but the people mattered. The people— the victims— they all mattered.

"Still. You could warn a guy." And Axel just shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the world, leaning his weight against the doorframe, still keeping Zexion mostly hidden from view.

Leon made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, turning back towards the body and tilting his head to the side. It was strange to see him looking so well, especially after the last murder. One would have expected him to be mutilated as Maleficent was, or at least redressed in the same way that Kairi was before. But no, that simply wasn't the case. Compared to the others, Xemnas' body looked completely normal with the exception of his pants legs being torn, those telling words carved down to the bone. It didn't make sense. None at all. In a normal case, the killing techniques stayed consistent; they only progressed as they went on. But these were different. Abnormal. The killing techniques weren't consistent at all. They didn't match up on any psychological level, and the victims themselves were all completely different. Some had ties to others, while others had none. There was literally nothing about this case that added up from one crime to the next, except for the words. Everything was in the words— they were the message. And they were leading up to something. Leon could feel creeping up along his neck, but he couldn't place what it was.

And he hated being played like a fool.

"We should move to one of the other rooms; we're contaminating the scene." And Leon supposed that Riku was right.

With seemingly practiced ease, he ushered them into one of the waiting areas down the hall, watching as they all crowded around, bumping into one another as they attempted to find somewhere to be in the cramped space— the waiting area being larger than the others of its kind, yet still not nearly as large as their office space. By the time they had finished, Sora was huddled in Riku's lap, Roxas was pointedly ignoring that fact that he was seated between Axel's legs, Demyx and Zexion had succeeded in putting as much distance between them as physically possible, and they were all quite close to his personal space. But Leon supposed that it could be worse; he could be the one frozen over down the hall.

"Okay, first things first," The brunette ground out, leaning back against the wall and scowling at his team in a way that was more thoughtful than annoyed. "We're not safe here— first Tron, then Auron, and now Xemnas. Obviously, the killer has no problem with our investigation. He doesn't feel threatened by it or us. If he feels anything towards us at all, he believes that we're inferior and incapable of catching him, which can go one of two ways for us.

"He can either make a mistake, allowing us to catch him, or he can kill us off one by one. From here on out, I want someone with you wherever you go if possible, mandatory check-ins, _everything_. Someone has to know where you are and where you're going at all times. I don't want to lose another team member, am I understood?" They all nodded, their eyes somber because they knew he was right. No one was safe. Detectives, civilians…there wasn't really a difference at this point. If they weren't careful, they could all get hurt. "Okay. Now that Xemnas is gone, the company may be in turmoil for a while. I'm not sure if we will still be stationed here once the new head takes over, but as it stands, nothing has changed. We're still a part of this investigation; we're still looking for this guy. So let's find him and take him down."

Axel smirked at the fire in those blue eyes, leaning forward so that he was towering over Roxas but closer to the leader, that feral look in his eyes. "You got it, boss."

"Then give me something. Anything that can help us find this guy— keep him from hurting anyone else." His fists clenched at his sides, his normally composed tone slipping a few notches. "Why the keyblades? Why Ansem's books? There has to be a reason for it all; we just haven't found it yet."

The criminal's eyes glazed, watching as the team tried to piece together a reason for the blades without knowing the logic behind them. They were fighting blind and they knew it, but something just didn't add up to him. Sephiroth had looked like the perfect candidate for the murders, but he was _too_ perfect. Tifa Lockhart was linked to two murders, but the connection was thin. The keyblades and Ansem were the root of them all— they just didn't make sense. Nothing that the killer did came back to them in the way that the books did. The ordering of the keyblades were the only thing that seemed to remotely follow them. But there had to be a reason.

Unless they had been looking at this all wrong from the very beginning.

"He's a coward." He said, slate colored eyebrows furrowing together as the rest of the team fell silent, looking at him through curious eyes.

Riku was the first to speak, his normal air of brutality diminishing somewhat with the smaller brunette perched on his lap. "I would hardly call our killer a coward. Cowards don't generally go for people with such outstanding positions in society, and he wouldn't be acting so cocky towards the department."

"But his victims are the same." Zexion stated, taking a step towards the center of the room, his fingers knotting and twisting in that never ending pattern of theirs. "They're all alone. Mickey was the only one at the station that night. Yen Sid and Mulan both lived alone. Megara was the only one at home the night she was killed. Yuna, Bella, and Donald— all separated from their groups. _Everyone_ has been alone. That's remained consistent from one murder to the next, just like the words."

"Maybe he's just being cautious." Sora piped up, tilting his head to the side in just the slightest way. "It would make sense. We've already said that it would have to be someone older with more experience. Maybe they're just trying to eliminate any chance of error."

"Possibly, but unlikely." The criminal mumbled, knotting those fingers faster and faster, his knuckles turning a deadly shade of white. "His confidence has been growing from the very beginning, so it would make sense that his latest crimes would have escalated and they have, but only in their time frame and placement. The amount hasn't changed. And that doesn't make any sense. He's obviously smart enough to stay under the radar and lure people in without them suspecting him, and he's obviously toying with us. So why not take it to the next level? Why not take more than one person at a time if he's so confident in his abilities? If he thinks that we can't catch him, why not make it more of a challenge for him— play with us some more?"

One brown eyebrow rose. "Because he doesn't think he can handle it." Leon said simply.

"Exactly. And that's what makes him different; it throws everything off." Zexion specified, his voice low and weary, like he wasn't entirely sure of himself. "Why would someone who's so confident refuse to challenge us head-on? Because he thinks that he might get caught if he does— and he's not afraid of getting caught and going to prison. If he was then he wouldn't acted so confidently in the first place, so why? Why _can't _he allow himself to get caught?"

"Because there's an end." Demyx supplied, scooting towards the edge of his seat, facing Zexion fully for the first time since that night with no intention of looking away. "There's a goal he has to reach before he can stop. All of the victims are leading up to one."

The criminal's lips spread into a small, thin smile. "Exactly."

"But how do we tell who it is?" Axel probed, emerald eyes narrowing. "The victims have all been completely different from one another— only the keyblades connect them fully."

The younger shrugged, sighing as he leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. "That's the problem. Since the victims are all so different, the final target could be anyone from the hospital head to another high school student. We don't know. Even Ansem could be the possible target, though it's unlikely due to the amount of respect the killer displays towards the book series. He could even being doing this to impress him."

"So we still don't know where to start." The redhead shrugged as well, leaning back in his seat and resting his head on his palm. "Just that the killer is a confident coward with a book series obsession. Lovely."

"Maybe, maybe not." Leon grunted, kicking off from the wall and cocking his weight to the side. "We'll have to wait and see how this plays out— and if we happen to learn the killer's name, we could use it to pinpoint his next victims and get them into protective custody." He cleared his throat. "But for now, let's start with the obvious and work our way from there. Xemnas was the last victim, and he was obviously killed somewhere else and placed here. So tell me who? Who would have both the ability and the access?"

"Us."

* * *

**A/N: Eh~ I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but I don't see myself changing anything in it, so I just thought I'd go ahead and post it. The characterizations seem a bit off to me in places and this one was harder to write than the last few have been. I blame the writer's block...**

**Not much else to say about this one really... **

**Production: First off, thank you to those of you who were sp supportive of my studies and things after the last chapter. It means a lot to me, and I really did need the break. As for next month, I'm hoping to get two chapters taken care of since my exams are this week and I shouldn't have too many things to take care of next moth. However, I will be taking the ACT and I have to study, so there might only be one. Most likely two, but definitely one. **

**Quiz Winner(s): Zemyx-AkuRoku**

**Quiz: None for this next chapter, but how do you like the characters so far? Do they fit in to how you see them from the games or do they seem different? **

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^_^**


	18. Bond of Flame

**I feel like an awful person... -_-**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~! **

**Also, this chapter, like the last few, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know! **

**Enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

Leon rubbed at his temples, falling back against the wall with a sigh. Roxas was right. Each and every one of them had access. They all had a key, excluding Zexion, and they all had the ability to get to and from the office by themselves. As much as he hated to admit it, they could have all logically played a part in these murders. The criminal was the only one who was completely innocent, having been locked inside of Hollow Bastion for the first two murders and under constant surveillance for the rest.

As for the rest of them, it would have been all too easy to pull of the murders. It was doubtful that Roxas had played any part in them, since he wasn't brought in until much later on in the case, but it was only logical that Axel, Sora, Riku, Demyx, or even himself could have been involved— Larxene as well. They all had the basic training for self-defense, and the people trusted them to solve the murders. They wouldn't hesitate to let them into their homes if they so asked. They wouldn't fear them. They wouldn't scream as they were being taken or fight back.

They would make the perfect killers.

But that didn't change the facts. They hadn't been brought in until after the first crime and they had all been accounted for beforehand. Even if one of them had managed to get to Twilight Town, kill the sheriff, and return in time for the briefing, they would have shown some signs of fatigue. And the only person that hadn't been with him during at least one of the murders was Demyx— and that was just an impossible thought.

"It's not like we're the only ones with keys, Roxy." Axel pointed out, grinning and patting the honey haired blond on the top of his head. Roxas scowled, slapping at the offending hand and letting out a sigh as the redhead completely ignored him. "Each of the cops have a copy too."

"True, but Roxas has a point. As long as we each have a key, then we're all suspects. The mandatory check-ins apply even more now— if you miss a check-in, you will be found and removed until you can be cleared. I don't want to second guess my team and I'm sure you don't either." Leon ordered, watching as each of his team gave a light nod, signaling their understanding.

Beside them, deep blue eyes narrowed at the carpeting, watching as borrowed shoes turned towards one another. Check-ins could help to clear up if it was a team member, but it was doubtful. If they were smart enough to be around the others constantly and not give anything away, then they could easily follow the check-ins without getting caught. Then there was always the chance that it wasn't a team member at all and this was just another one of the killer's attempts to distract them from the case. It was possible. Probable even.

"Everyone would have access." Zexion mumbled, knotting his fingers together at his sides.

Riku let out an exasperated sort of sigh. "How do you figure that? This building is kept locked off when it's empty, and there aren't any signs of forced entry."

"That's true, but Xemnas had a key." The criminal explained, pushing himself a little farther away from the wall. "He kept it in his coat at all times, so it's safe to assume that he had it when he died, which means that the killer did as well. It would only make sense for him to use Xemnas' key."

The redhead let out a groan, letting his fiery locks slump forward with him. "So we're back at square one. Lovely."

**K3YBLAD3**

"That's not…possible."

Sora offered a sympathetic smile, watching as the white-haired man before him tried to process everything he had told him. He looked physically distraught by the news, his eyes wide as he stared at him in disbelief. Sora supposed that it was a normal reaction to learning that one's brother had been murdered. He really wouldn't know.

"I'm afraid that it is." Riku sounded from behind him, taking a step forward so that he stood even with the lithe brunette. "His body was found earlier this morning. Do you know anyone who would want to hurt him in any way?" The man shook his head, brows furrowing as he turned to stare at his clasped hands. "Anything at all could help, even if it seems completely insignificant."

Xehanort opened his mouth and then closed it like he really didn't understand what he was doing, those clasped hands of his grabbing at each other with increasing intensity. "I really don't know if I can help you. Xemnas was always well-loved. A little odd, but that was just his work….it's just so hard to believe." He shook his head quickly as if to clear it, that long white hair slapping against his cheeks. "He came to see me yesterday, you know. And now he's gone."

Riku and Sora exchanged a look, blue meeting aqua for just a split second before they pulled away again. "He came to see you." Sora stated slowly, gaining the doctor's attention. He nodded minutely, looking up at the specialist quickly before looking away again. "Could you tell us about the visit? Axel said that he was acting a bit strangely before he left yesterday, so anything he said to you could help. Even if it was just a comment that seemed completely normal at the time— anything you can think of."

"It was mid-afternoon when he came by." The older stated deliberately, trying to remember every detail to the best of his ability. "He seemed hurried. Jittery. I asked him what was wrong and he said that there was something that he couldn't tell me. I didn't press the issue— he was always rather secretive about ongoing cases, as he should have been— and I just assumed that it would go away. Xemnas was always good about dealing with things, even when we were children."

"Were the two of you close?" Sora asked, once it was apparent that the other wasn't going to continue.

Xehanort let out a slight snort, one that sounded nothing short of distressed. "No. As children, we were much closer. We used to do everything together— all those childish things that children do. We seemed to have grown apart over the years, though. We took different paths. Xemnas became a detective, and I became a doctor. Our work kept us apart most of the time, and once our parents died a few years ago we ceased to see one another at family affairs either. It was a mutual disconnection— one that I'm regretting now."

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Sora mumbled, that sympathetic smile still gracing his features. He hated to see people in any kind of pain. It was part of the reason why he had taken the job that he had. People were always at their lowest, always hurt the worst when they had lost someone. And he would always do what he could to make them feel better, to make that time not hurt quite so much. It was what he did, and he was proud of that. Murderers, serial killers…the vast majority of them knew nothing of the hurt they caused. And those that did mostly didn't care. So, he was okay with seeing their victims and making as much of the hurt go away as he could, even if he couldn't do very much for them. He was okay with fixing their mistakes. "I know this must be hard for you, especially so soon after his…death, but we need to know what else happened while he was with you while it's still fresh." The brunette urged gently.

"Oh, no. It's quite alright. Really. There's no sense in me bemoaning the past and the things that I didn't do. Nothing will change. The past will forever remain the past." Xehanort shook his head again, a light sort of smile stretching at his lips, looking almost capricious. "As I said, he was in a hurry and something was bothering him. After I asked what was wrong, he looked around my office for a moment, and then he asked me about my work. I had thought that it was just something to pass the time— mindless chatter to help him clear his head, so I told him of the new studies the hospital is preparing to conduct next spring and the training programs that I've set up outside the hospital.

"He commented when appropriate, but I could tell he wasn't really there. He kept looking at the clock; it was like he was waiting for something. After a while— I'm not sure of the time. It could have been an hour, maybe less— he stood up, saying that he had to leave and that he would see me again. I asked what the rush was, but he just told me to be careful. And that was the last I saw of him. I'm really not entirely sure what happened."

Riku nodded at the story. It made sense. Axel had said that Xemnas had acted strangely before leaving, a statement that Zexion had agreed to. And, while Riku still hated that leech with every fiber of his being, his wasn't about to discredit the story because of him. If anything, it strengthened it. Two team members— one being temporary— had said that there was something odd about him, something that was off about his behavior. Then, his brother said the same thing. It all meant one thing: Xemnas knew something the day that he was killed. He knew something important, something that would have broken the case.

Xemnas knew something that would lead them to the killer.

It would make sense. Xemnas wasn't the type to spout random things or say anything until he was absolutely certain. He had probably left the scene of Maleficent's murder with the intention of confirming any suspicions he might have had. Once he had the confirmation, he would have called in the rest of the team. But by then it must have already been too late. He had already been taken care of.

"Thank you. That really helps." Sora stated warmly, that smile still on his lips. Riku looked at him for a moment before drawing his eyes back to the white-haired man before them. He seemed shaken by the news of his brother's death, but it looked to be more shock than anything else. Of course, he supposed that it made sense. He had said that they weren't particularly close any more, and he knew what it was like to grow apart from one's family.

"Would it be too forward if I asked to see the body?" Xehanort asked, watching his hands clasp and unclasp in his lap, his voice shallow. "I know it might seem a bit strange…but I would like to say good-bye. He left in such a hurry yesterday that I didn't really have the chance."

Sora shook his head even though the other couldn't see. "I'm sorry. For the time being, all of the bodies are being kept for evidence purposes. Once the case is over, you'll be allowed to take him and bury him to your wishes. Allowing you to see him could possibly jeopardize the case, even if it is just for a minute or two."

"That's quite alright then." The man nodded, a strange sort of smile stretching his lips as he looked up at the brunette. "Finding this killer should be your first priority, and I'm sure that's what my brother would have wanted. The good-byes can wait."

Riku nodded at him, his jaw tight. "We don't need anything else for now. You're free to leave whenever you would like."

"Of course." Xehanort stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress shirt before moving towards the door. "If you need anything else at all, feel free to call; I'm glad to help."

"We'll be sure to." The silverette opened the door that led into the hallway, letting the esteemed doctor walk through it leisurely.

"Thanks for your time." Sora mumbled at his back. The man turned with a light smile, waving in a way that said _"any time," _and disappearing down the hall.

**K3YBLAD3**

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the yellow scrap of paper perched innocently in the exact center of Leon's desk. It didn't look threatening in any way. There were no bloodstains inked onto it; the corners weren't ripped or frayed. To any onlooker, the paper was completely normal, but Zexion could tell that there was something wrong with it. Something very, very wrong with that little slip of paper.

It hadn't been there before.

He was absolutely certain of it. He was an observer by nature. He caught things— the little things, the details that no one else felt the need to bother with. And that paper hadn't been there when they had left the office the day before. It was possible that someone had put it there this morning amidst the confusion or simply placed it there by mistake while Xemnas' body was being moved, but it was unlikely. That paper was in the _exact center of the desk_. That wasn't an accident. It was placed there for a reason. Whoever had left it wanted someone to find it.

With calculated steps— shallow and silent, he moved forward, snapping a shot of the paper with the camera that Axel had given him as a precaution. He snapped another from a different angle before grabbing at the page with slender, latex covered fingers. The front of it was blank. Empty. But he could see the black ink that had bled through, like blood seeping through floorboards. Intrigued, he turned it over, biting his lip at the one word spread across it, the four letters written in blocks of haphazard scrawl.

_**LIAR.**_

"Axel? Demyx?" He called, pulling his eyes away and watching as the redhead gave him a strange sort of glance with those emerald eyes of his. Beside him, Demyx tilted his head, setting aside the stack of photographs without a second thought. "I think that the two of you should take a look at this."

Instantly, Axel had him by the wrist, holding his hand up so he could examine the word, his grip both firm and slightly painful. Demyx came up behind him, staying a little farther away, his eyes a little downcast, like he was afraid of getting too close. And all Zexion could do was watch as the redhead smirked like a predator that had just taken his prey, his wrist trapped.

"Now this is something." He laughed a bit, slapping the criminal on the back with his free hand before plucking the yellow scrap away and holding it between two of his own latex-coated fingers. He held it up to the light as he let the younger go, allowing Demyx a closer look as he examined it. "But what's it supposed to mean?"

"He's obviously trying to tell us something." Zexion stated, backing away and rubbing at his wrist behind his back, internally grimacing at the feel of the latex grabbing at his skin.

Demyx watched him curiously, glancing at the paper and then back at the criminal. "Why?"

The senior detective gave him a look, those eyes of his a little confused yet slightly amused. "Uh, Dem? If we knew that, we wouldn't still be here."

"That's not what I meant." The blond sighed, stepping forward. "I meant why now? Why would he leave something like this now when he's so close to the end? There's always a possibility that someone will recognize the handwriting, and we could catch him off of that. He'd never be able to finish what he set out to do."

Slim brows furrowed at that, a scowl touching thin lips. "You're right. It doesn't make sense."

"Of course it does." The criminal stated simply, taking the paper away and placing it in a plastic evidence bag. The two detectives simply looked at him for a moment, watching as he carefully snapped the top and placed the bag in the center of the desk.

"Okay, I'll bite." Axel shrugged. "How does this make sense?"

"He's a criminal."

The redhead scowled. "I think we've got as much. What does being a criminal have to do with leaving damning evidence like this behind?"

"Everything and nothing at all." Pale, thin lips twisted into a light sort of smile, the gears turning and whirling behind those darkly colored eyes, shadowed in black. "You're thinking about this like a sane person would, but that's wrong. Whoever we're looking for isn't sane like you are anymore. He's still just as calculating, but he's lost himself somewhere. The crimes are changing. So why would he leave a message behind while knowing there was a chance we could catch him because of it? He felt that it had to be said, that we _had _to know. It's important, and it's everything."

"I'm not following." Axel crossed his stick-like arms, cocking his hip to the side.

Zexion sighed. "Simply put, we don't understand what he wants us to. Before, when he was still in control of himself, he didn't care one way or the other. It was probably the primary goal in his mind, but it wasn't completely necessary for what he wanted to do. Now, it's everything. And we still don't know what it is. So he left us a note, a clue to help us understand. His endgame has changed."

"That makes sense." Demyx piped once he was done, dirty blond brows drawn together in just the slightest way. "And that's why Xemnas was left here. He wanted to make sure we found that note."

"Possibly." The criminal shrugged his boney shoulders. "Xemnas could have been the target or collateral damage. It's impossible to tell at this point."

Axel made a noncommittal noise, his emerald eyes darkening for just a moment before he smirked that feral sort of smirk, his eyes glancing from one of them to the other and then back again. Before the other two could even blink, he had snatched the evidence bag from the desk, holding it carefully as he backed away. "That's great. I'm not sure if it really helps, but hey, bouncing it off of Leon couldn't hurt, right? So, how about you two finish up here and I'll go talk with the boss? While I'm gone, the two of you could work out some issues and all _that _stuff. I'll get back when I get back. Don't kill each other if you can help it!"

And then he was gone, that smirk still in place as he pulled the door closed, leaving the other two to simply stare— first at the closed door and then at each other. It was the first time that they had been alone since doing _that_. And Demyx could only think one thing— it was _awkward_.

Completely and utterly awkward.

Oceanic orbs watched transfixed as Zexion pointedly looked away, biting at his lower lip and knotting his fingers together until his knuckles turned bone white. And the blond didn't really blame him for not wanting to look at him. It was one thing when they were talking about the case. That was work. It mattered, but it didn't really. It wasn't emotional or personal like everything else was. It wasn't complicated. This— this was complicated. This was personal and emotional and everything else all bundled into one.

And it was his fault. It was his fault that Zexion didn't want to be around him anymore. He had taken advantage of him. At the time, everything was fine, but he had known that he shouldn't. Demyx knew that he was fragile emotionally. It was obvious from the way that he carried himself. He wasn't comfortable with people. Demyx knew that; Demyx understood that. His parents had ignored him, treated him like he wasn't even there unless he was doing something for them. And then Lexaeus turned him into a murderer.

And Demyx had done something so much worse than all of that.

He was selfish. So, so selfish. He had wanted him— inside and out. He had wanted to get closer. He had wanted to know him like no one else ever had. And he had gotten what he wanted. He had seen him laid bare, lost in ecstasy. He had seen him moan as he squirmed under him. He had seen him with those trusting blue eyes. And he had seen him the morning after. He had seen him walk out of the bathroom, eyes red-rimmed, legs bare and shaking, a faint trail of dried blood on the inside of his thigh. He had seen him broken.

And he had hurt him.

The older shifted uncomfortably, looking away and clenching his fists at his side as he spoke, babbling incoherently as he tried to keep his voice from breaking. "I— I…I don't think _sorry_ really works anymore. I mean, I am. I wish I hadn't— I shouldn't have— it was all my fault and I am so sorry. It was just— I wasn't—and you said it was…but it wasn't…it wasn't and I hurt you and I'm so—"

"Please stop." Demyx stopped, clamping his mouth shut and turning back towards the other, eyes wide. Zexion was looking at him now. His shadowed eyes were downcast, both momentarily exposed as his fingers continued their constant knotting. "You didn't." He said quietly, brings his arms to cross over his waist protectively.

"I don't understand…" The blond whispered, taking a hesitant step closer.

Zexion shook his head, letting his slate fringe fall back in front of his face. "You didn't hurt me." He explained, his cheeks turning a slightly darker shade as his feet shuffled along the carpet. Demyx just gaped at him.

"I didn't hurt you?" He repeated after it became apparent that the younger wasn't going to explain further. Zexion nodded. "Then why did you…? I mean, why would…?" The blond shook his head, making a frustrated sort of noise in the back of his throat. "If I didn't…then why have you been avoiding me?" And Demyx really didn't understand. If he hadn't hurt him, if he hadn't taken advantage of him like he thought he did, then why? Everything was fine before. What was it that was so wrong for Zexion that made it where things couldn't still be that way?

The criminal opened his mouth and then let it close again, his fingertips dipping into his skin as he stared at his feet. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain that he just _couldn't_ do something like that? That he could never be that weak again? He closed his eyes, biting on the inside of his cheek until a stream of bloodied iron flooded his mouth. "I'm sorry." He finally sighed, reopening his eyes to watch as Demyx's light blue Converses came a step closer, that blond head with those oceanic orbs filling his view not a moment later, his head tilted to the side as he bent down to his level.

"I still don't— why would you—?" The junior detective shook his head sharply, his voice soft and confused. He wasn't angry about whatever it was that happened. No. He could never be angry about it, whatever it was. He just wanted to understand. "When I woke up, you were in the bathroom." He stated gently, coaxingly, when the criminal didn't say anything in response, when he didn't explain. "You told me that it could never happen again, and when you came out…you'd been crying. And you wouldn't look at me— you had blood on your thigh, on the shirt you were wearing." Demyx took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat as he continued on evenly, watching the other for any outward signs of distress.

"When you kept avoiding me, I thought that I had hurt you in some way. And I don't understand. I don't understand any of it because you said it was okay— and it was something I shouldn't have done; I know that— and then it wasn't. And— I don't even know anymore. Can you please explain it to me just so I understand? We don't have to— we _never _have to do anything like _that_ again or anything at all if you don't want to. I just…want to understand." The blond smiled, eyes sad as he finished. He meant everything he said. He would always mean it. He loved Zexion. He was in love with Zexion. And if Zexion didn't want him anywhere near him, he would gladly walk away, even if it hurt.

For a moment, the younger just looked at him, biting at his cheek with sharp teeth and letting the blood pool under his tongue. And then he looked away, uncomfortably shuffling his feet along the floor and turning them inwards as his nails dug a little farther into his skin. To Demyx, it looked like he was breaking, and that was something that he really couldn't stand.

"I just can't." He mumbled with his voice surprisingly even but soft all the same. Slowly, he looked at Demyx, shadowed sea blue meeting oceanic pools. And all Demyx could think was that he looked tired and torn and oh so very uncertain. "I—I can't do that. I can't be in a relationship. I can't get involved. I just…can't."

"I don't—"

"I thought that it would just go away." He continued, ignoring Demyx completely yet looking right at him, trying to make him understand. He _needed _him to understand. "It was stupid and childish and— I thought that maybe you would just forget it even happened and everything would just go away. Because I can't. And I'm sorry." Zexion shook his head, taking a step back. "I—I had hoped that you wouldn't get hurt…" He whispered, his voice so quiet that Demyx wasn't even sure that he had heard him right.

But it was okay.

The blond smiled at him, that sweet smile that edged on both sad and hopeful at the same time. He could see that the younger wasn't comfortable; he could see that he was being as honest as he could, trying to make him understand. And maybe he still didn't understand everything. Maybe he still didn't fully comprehend what had happened. But that was okay. Perfectly, completely okay.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, that smile still turning his lips as he grabbed at the other's hands, pulling them away from his arms and holding them gently— loosely so that he could pull away if he wanted. And Zexion jerked his head and just stared as he pulled them a little closer, pecking him on the cheek and pressing their foreheads together. "Okay." Demyx whispered, pulling away so that they were at arm's length again but not letting him go. Zexion didn't even try to pull away. "That's okay because, if you can't right now, you'll be able to eventually…and I'll still be here."

Stunned, the criminal just stared speechlessly before letting out an astonished sort of laugh, shaking his head and squeezing his fingers around Demyx's own. "You're an…idiot."

Demyx laughed, scrunching his nose a bit and quirking the corners of his mouth. "Maybe." He shrugged, content as silence closed in around them. "Can I ask you something?" He asked after a little while had passed, rubbing his thumbs in smooth circles along Zexion's knuckles.

With his head tilted slightly to the side and one eyebrow raised, the smaller nodded. "You just did, but you can ask another."

Cheekily, the blond smiled a little wider. "Can I come back to the hotel room now? Please? Roxas snores like a miniature freight train!" He exclaimed, sticking his tongue out as Zexion just laughed and laughed and laughed— incredulous but undeniable. "I'm serious! It was like my high school camping trip all over again!"

And when Zexion just continued to laugh instead of answering, Demyx couldn't help but laugh along, because things weren't perfect between the two of them. Something was still a little wrong and they were missing some details, but it was still okay.

And Demyx was happy with that.

**K3YBLAD3**

Gone. Gone. Gone.

He was gone and never coming back. Oh yes. Yes, he was never going to come back and haunt him again. He'd made a mistake. And he had known. Oh, he had known that it was him. That silly detective had thought that he wouldn't get rid of him. Ha. Who did he think he was? No one. That detective was absolutely no one. He was _nothing _anymore.

He had come to him, knowing. And he hadn't told anyone. No. He wanted all the credit for catching _the killer_, _the crazy_, _the murderer_. But no. He hadn't let him. He would never let him catch him. He'd taken it all away just like that because he was the one in control now. He was in control of everything. The light. The dark. He had it all. Every last bit of it was under his control.

And soon they would all know. They would all know about that liar, that person that they kept on that pedestal— _his _rightful pedestal. They would all know that he was a fraud. They would all know that he was the rightful one. It was _his_. His and his alone. And it had been stolen by that _**liar**__. _

Everything had been stolen. Nothing was ever his. His credit, his life, all of it. But he'd show him. _He'd show them all._ He wasn't someone that was just going to sit down and take it all anymore. He controlled it. He controlled everything now.

With that twisted smirk, nasty eyes shimmering, he zeroed in on his next victim, watching him as he walked without a care in the world, files in hand. He thought he was safe here? Oh no. No one was ever safe. He controlled who lived and who died. He did. Location, time…no. It didn't matter at all. He would take who he wanted. He would destroy who he wanted.

But he would wait for now.

Oh yes. He would wait for just a while. An hour, maybe two until the opportune moment arose, until he wasn't expecting it at all. And then he would jump. He'd destroy him. He'd take all that darkness and keep it for himself. It would be all his and no one could take it away. No one could _steal _it from him.

Carefully, he backed away, turning on his heel and retreating back to his car, cackling to himself. They were all idiots. Stupid. They didn't understand. But he would make them with this one. Oh, they would have to understand after this one. They would all understand what was taken from him— and _he _would understand best of all what happened to liars. He would have to understand.

And then he'd give it up.

And it would all be his again.

But he wouldn't let him get away that easily. No, no. Admitting it? That was nothing. It _meant _nothing. No one would believe him. They would think it was the fear. The fear of him that made him say it. He would make sure that he truly paid for what he did. He'd take care of him. He'd get rid of him. Those detectives? They couldn't do anything. They would never be able to save him.

He would make sure of that.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Have you found anything yet?"

Larxene scrunched her nose, a scowl forming on her pale pink lips. She didn't both looking up, knowing who it was. Instead, she continued to peel back the skin on the fingertips of Xemnas' corpse, her head even as she watched with interest. People were difficult— loud, obnoxious, beyond useless in more ways than one. Bodies, however, were so much easier. They couldn't hide things. They couldn't lie or fight. Oh, no. Bodies were nothing like people, even though they had the same physical form. With people, you never knew what you were going to get from them. Maybe a lie, maybe the truth; it was all the same, really. But with bodies, everything was clear and easy. Skin, muscle, adipose tissue, blood, veins, organs, skeletal muscles— it was all so easy. They didn't talk back or interrupt. And if she wanted something, all she had to do was take it. It's not like they were in need of it any longer. Really, who ever heard of a corpse in need of its tissues? It all rotted away anyway.

"Larxene?" The voice prodded, annoyed and stern. She simply huffed, straightening as she placed the bit of skin in one of her many containers. Evidence. Everything was evidence. "I asked you a question."

With a frustrated huff, she crossed her arms, bloody gloves scrapping across her dull, blue lab coat. "And I heard you the first time." The blonde's eyes narrowed at her current boss. He didn't look particularly amused, but she supposed that she didn't care. They weren't friends, and their relationship was purely work related. He wasn't even _technically _her boss— he was the guy she was currently gutting— so it didn't really both her in the slightest that he was irritated with her. She wasn't going to be losing any sleep over it any time soon. "Where's Firecrotch? Isn't he the one you're normally sending down here?"

"I sent him on an errand with Roxas." Was Leon's clipped reply. "As for the body, have you found anything?" She smirked at him, forcefully pulling the sheet away from the cadaver and letting it fall to the floor, exposing every inch of dead skin in the process. To her immense satisfaction, Leon twitched and took an involuntary step back.

"He was in remarkably good health before his death. Heart, liver, lungs— they're all in perfect condition. He was a bit more on the hefty side of things in terms of weight, which comes as no surprise considering how well he kept himself in shape. It was no easy feat for whomever it was that took him down, that's for sure." With practiced ease, she rolled the body onto its side a bit, just enough so that it was at a slight angle. "As you can see, _Mysterious Abyss _was our killer's keyblade of choice for this one, and the words were carved before death. There aren't any defensive wounds, which means that he was either mostly unconscious during the carving or simply unable to move. I'd bet on the latter. By that time, he was probably too cold to move or fight back much. The human body has a tendency to shut itself down when it starts to freeze."

Leon cocked an eyebrow, watching as Larxene bent over so that her elbow was on the steel, one bloodied glove coming to rest on her cheek as she leaned against it. She smiled lightly, watching him with electric eyes. He sighed, fighting off a headache. "I'm assuming there's something else that I should know about."

"But of course." And if possible, that smile of hers widened, a little too self-appreciating. "You see, at first, I was a little surprised. If Xemnas could move, then why not fight back? He certainly had the strength for it, but then I thought that that would be much too easy. Maybe he let the words get carved into his skin without fighting back so he could give us a clue while the killer thought that he couldn't." She tapped at her chin thoughtfully, sticky blood matting and pulling at her latex gloves. "He would have known that it would lead to his death, of course— while waiting, he was just getting colder and colder. Knowing Xemnas, though, I'm assuming that he was trapped and didn't see the point in wasting his opportunity to help catch this man regardless of the fact that he would die a little faster. Xemnas was a little funny like that, as you well know.

"Anyway, how it happened doesn't really matter. It's of no real concern at this point, and I don't like speculating at any rate. What matters is this." Pointedly, she traced the outline of a '_B_' with her pinky finger, following it along Xemnas' brown skin. It wasn't overly large, but large enough to catch her attention when she stripped the body. It seemed as though Xemnas had tried to tell them who the killer was right before he met his end.

The brunette leaned forward, scrutinizing the letter as Larxene continued to trace it, just barely skimming over the dried blood. "B? What is that supposed to stand for? The first letter of a name or…?" The mortician just shrugged her lithe shoulders, backing away and snapping her gloves off only to don a new pair.

"How should I know? You're the detective, aren't you?" She hummed, replacing Xemnas' sheet and moving on to the next body in line. Leon made a frustrated sort of noise, but she couldn't have been happier when she heard his retreating footsteps and the slamming of the morgue's door. Now she had time for more interesting things, like Maleficent's body for instance. What a challenge that one was, all torn into bits.

She adored puzzles.

**K3YBLAD3**

He couldn't scream. And oh, he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream his lungs out because he just knew that it'd be his last chance to ever do it again. He wanted to tell Zexion and Demyx to kiss and make up because they were such idiots around each other. He wanted to fight with Riku and Leon about this and that and everything else. He wanted to make Sora those damn banana flavored pancakes that his mother used to make him because he had promised so, so long ago and just hadn't gotten around to it. He wanted to tell Roxas that he was sorry for being such an ass most of the time. He wanted to call up his brother Reno and go on that damn hike they had planned back when they were still just stupid kids. And he wanted to get up and fight back and catch this bastard, but he _didn't _want to cry.

And he wanted to _**live**__, goddammit_!

"Now, now, now— it's best not to struggle. It's not like you're going to be getting away." The voice— that damn _voice_— tutted in his ear. He didn't care what it said. He wasn't going to stop. He was _never _going to stop. This bastard wasn't allowed to win. Not after everything. Not after he'd killed Xemnas and Tron and Auron and all those other people. He wasn't allowed to get him too. So he continued to struggle, twisting his arms in ways that would make Zexion grimace from the pain as he tried to get out of his bindings, his wrists snapping as he tugged. The man just laughed that awful laugh, patting him on top of his head, making him jerk, his neck bending awkwardly. "Have it your way, then. Honestly, you're the most persistent one so far, aren't you? That's fine; you can waste your energy if you like. It's not like you'll be needing it anyway."

Axel jerked forward as hands began to tear at the back of his shirt, ripping the fabric despite his attempted protests. As those hands began to probe at his muscles, he tried to lurch away, his shoulder blades squirming in a way that just made the man laugh all the more, running his gloved hands down his spinal column, one notch at a time. After a moment or two, he stopped, his breath coming in short bursts as he tried to breathe through the gag that covered his lips and nose. It really hurt to breathe. With every motion, with every jerk or strain, it would become that much harder, his lungs fighting to bring enough in while he just became dizzier and dizzier the more exhausted he became. But he didn't want to give up yet. He had so much more life left to live, and he wasn't going to let it end like this. He couldn't.

He was not going to die bound and gagged in some storeroom.

Calmly, he took a deep breath, letting it out as slowly as he could, lungs protesting. This was it. This was going to be his last chance— he didn't have enough strength to keep this up. Silently, he waited. The man was behind him still, touching at his back, and he'd only have one chance at getting this right. And he just hoped that it worked.

Twisting his ankles, he pushed himself backwards, aiming with his full body weight, hoping to pull the other man down with him. Maybe if he could pull him down, he could stun him long enough to get himself untied. Then he'd at least have a chance to fight back. He'd at least have a chance at getting out alive.

It didn't work.

The man just laughed that horrible laugh as he dodged out of the way, letting the redhead smash into the concrete floor. The chair he was in cracked in the same way his head did as it hit the concrete, and Axel saw stars behind his eyelids. And it hurt. _Everything hurt_.

"What a spark." The man mumbled, easily lifting the chair back up into the sitting position, Axel's head spinning all the while. He could feel the blood from his head dripping down behind the blindfold, running over his emerald eyes in sick streams. "I've honestly never met anyone quite like you. Hmm. No. Oh no, I really haven't. What a shame." He heard the man walk away for a moment, his footsteps echoing off the empty walls as he started to shuffle through whatever it was that he had, the unmistakable sounds of clanking and scuffling beating against the redhead's ears. He tensed as he came back, his presence distinctive against his back. "Oh, don't tense. It'll only hurt that much more if you tense."

And then he began to carve, elegant letters sinking into his skin, rivulets of blood turning into streams that sunk into the hemline of his jeans. And he was not going to cry. He was no going to give this man the satisfaction of seeing him cry. No matter how much it hurt, he was not going to show one ounce of weakness to this man. Not even in the end.

After what seemed like an eternity, the man polished off the final letter— an _E_— before backing away again, humming to himself. "You took that surprisingly well." He said happily, clapping his back in a way that made Axel jerk forward with every touch. "It's too bad, really. I might have killed you off the easy way then. But since you can take it, we might as well just continue as planned."

And Axel didn't need his eyes to know the smell of gasoline as its canister was opened.

Steadily, slowly, as the wounds on his back were lovingly immersed in the liquid, along with his chair and the area around him, he cried. It didn't even matter anymore. So what if this man saw him? This was the end and there were so many things he hadn't done that he'd wanted to. So many things he hadn't said to the people that he cared about the most. So many things that he regretted. So many things that he wished hadn't happened.

He was going to die. He knew that. This man— this sick, twisted _bastard_— was going to burn him alive. And there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't have the strength left to get away. And he just hurt. Everything hurt _so goddamn much_. And this was wrong. It was all so wrong. He could hear that man laughing as he lit him on fire, and he could hear himself screaming and screaming inside his head because everything else was too muffled— and it _hurt_.

He could feel the flesh on his back melting as the flames started lapping at it, _eating _at it— and the smell was burning his nostrils and there was screaming on the outside now, high and frightened.

And then it was cold. So fucking cold, hands grabbing at him, pushing him against the floor and away from the flames, someone screaming in his ear as he rolled and rolled and rolled. Everything just hurt, and why wouldn't it stop? Why wouldn't it just leave him alone? He could feel the tears pooling as his mouth was unwrapped— and he could _breathe_, he could _scream_, his lungs filling with air, contracting and expanding. Fingertips grabbed at his eyes, pulling at the blindfold, but it _hurt _so much and his back was on fire— and then he was staring, emerald eyes wide as he looked at the person above him, blond hair blackened in places and too-blue eyes too wide to be real.

And then the sirens sounded, and he just let everything go.

* * *

**A/N: Like I said, I feel like an awful person. I love Axel. Beyond love Axel, and everyone else seems to too (since he's the only one people have asked me _not _to kill off), so I didn't. In my original plotline, he got burnt to a crisp in an office chair. In the new, revised version, he apparently gets burned alive. Lovely. **

**I'm sorry if it came out a little wrong and fragmented, though. I've never been burned alive, but I don't think that you would think correctly at a point, so I tried to make it as choppy as possible while still making sense from one part to the next. **

**Anyway, this chapter has a lot of plot development in it, even though it's a little difficult to see at most stages. And look! There's even a bit of relationship development, even though Demyx is beyond cheesy and Zexion is so out of character I want to hit my head against a brick wall. Overall, I'm sort of happy with it honestly.**

**Oh, and Roxas snores. That wasn't in the original plotline either. **

**Production: The first update of two for this month, hopefully. I'm sorry things are taking so long. This first half of this chapter was like trying to pull nails out of concrete, but thanks to Finale Di Amore, I was inspired enough to finish the last half of this within a couple of hours. Thank you! **

**As for the next update, I'll try to have it up by the thirtieth. I make no promises, but I'll try. This story only has three main chapters and an epilogue left! Wooh~**

**Quiz Winner(s): No quiz last chapter. **

**Quiz: None for this chapter, either. Sorry, guys, we're getting a bit too close to the end for me to come up with anything without giving everything away. I would like to know what you think about Zexion and Demyx's relationship development in this, though. Did it seem a little too out there, or did it fit them well enough based on how they've been in the rest of the story? I want to know you're opinion! **

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^_^**


	19. Oblivion

**Two days late...sorry. T.T**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~! **

**Also, this chapter, like the last few, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know! **

**Enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

"He's alive."

Demyx nearly fell to the floor and wept from the sheer amount of gratitude pulsing through his veins. Instead, he just stopped, sinking into the closest chair and pulling Zexion down with him, his oceanic eyes wide as his chest heaved. He was alive. Axel was still alive. He wasn't just another body for Larxene to tear at for answers. He was still Axel.

Breathing a sigh of relief at the thought, he ran his hands through his hair in quick, jerking movements, taking in the scene around him for the first time. The hospital looked just as white and bland as any other, his coworkers littered about the waiting room with drawn faces. No one was talking. Sora and Riku sat across from him, huddled together unseeingly, Sora's blue eyes wide and red-rimmed, Riku's aqua-like pools dry and emotionless as he stared at his knees. Larxene was hidden towards the corner of the room, blonde hairs skewed as she looked out the large window that oversaw the town, tapping her right foot nervously against the hospital's tiled floor in a soundless sort of rhythm. Leon stood pacing the length of the floor, boots making a strange shuffling sound as he pivoted, his face blank, his arms crossed.

They all looked torn up in some way, but none more so than Roxas.

He was seated completely away from everyone else, his face hidden in his hands, stubby nails digging into his scalp, leaving dents along his skin. And he wasn't moving. He _couldn't _move. If he even stood, he knew that he would fall apart. He knew that he would just break and shatter into a million different pieces. He could feel himself shaking, his knees wobbling as he trapped them with his elbows, his lips quivering in the tight hold between both rows of his sharpened teeth. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault. If he hadn't gotten so angry— if he hadn't left him alone, then maybe none of this would have had to happen.

But he was just so angry. So, so angry. Axel had— _has_— that annoying ability to always get under his skin, to make him say and do things that he doesn't really mean. But it was just so _stupid_. It was all so stupid. Every last bit of it. He knew that they were supposed to stay together. Leon had told them to _always _stay together, that they weren't safe, but he'd disregarded that. He'd just left him there to fend for himself knowing that something could happen. And it did happen.

Axel had been tied to a chair, carved into, and _burned_.

And he had just been so scared when he had realized that he was missing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Roxas had known that he had been taken the second he couldn't find him. He just hadn't wanted to believe it. So he had looked and looked and looked, becoming more and more frantic with each passing second. And then he was there, sitting and struggling and _burning_, the smell of flesh and blood and gasoline assaulting his nose.

At the time, he hadn't really thought about what he was doing. He'd just wanted to make it stop. He'd rushed at him and pulled him away as fast as he could, and Axel was _screaming_ that scream that was still ringing and echoing against the inside of his skull.

Roxas was terrified— so, so terrified— that he'd been too late. The redhead had passed out within a minute of being pulled away from the flames, and he'd thought that he was dead.

"_Axel! Wake up!" He pushed at his shoulders, ran his nails down his arms, screaming, crying. "Please, please, wake up! I can't__—__ I'm so sorry. Just please wake up! You're not allowed to die yet, you hear me! You're not allowed to die!"_

Riding in the ambulance had been the worst part, when the detective's heart had stopped and the paramedics took so long in bringing him back, pushing on his chest with bruising strength, pushing the blond out of the way so they could work. It had all been so nerve-wracking, just watching and waiting and hoping for the best. It was something that he never wanted to have to live through again, because it had literally felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest and thrown into some sort of black hole that was ripping it apart bit by bit. But that was nothing compared to the crushing feeling that crashed into him when he first saw the dried tearstains that trailed down the other's feral cheeks.

That had been the worst part.

"Is he…going to be okay?" The blond jumped at the words, widened eyes training themselves on the exhausted criminal hunched into himself, his body leaning towards Demyx in just the slightest way, his boney fingers knotting in his lap like they always seemed to.

Leon stopped his pacing, boots squeaking angrily against the tile at the action. He let out a long sigh, uncharacteristically letting a hand run through his hair with an air of uncertainty. "I don't know." He said honestly, his voice low and even. "The doctor said that he had made it through the worst of it by the time he made it to the hospital, but these next few days are critical. His back was badly burned, along with the area along his wrists and ankles. His legs were burned as well, but the doctor said that those should heal easily. He might not…be the same Axel we know when he wakes up." The brunette winced as the words left his lips, not even caring that he was telling this to the criminal. It didn't even matter who he was or what he'd done anymore. The past could remain in the past for now.

"I don't understand." Innocent blue eyes blinked as Sora scooted closer until he was hanging off the edge of his chair. "Why wouldn't Axel still be Axel?"

"Because people change after things like this." Riku muttered, grabbing onto Sora's wrist and pulling him back. "He will always be Axel, just not the same person on the inside. He might not be all there anymore."

Roxas gripped the edge of his chair so tightly that the sound of protein scrapping against hardwood echoed through the room, catching everyone's attention. He just shook his head, gritting his teeth. "Don't say that."

The profiler cleared his throat, letting out a long, pained sigh. "Roxas…I don't want that to happen, but we have to understand that it could happen. Axel might not be—"

"_Don't say that_." The blond shook his head again, his shoulders shaking dangerously. "Don't _ever _say that." It wasn't even a possibility. Axel wouldn't be any different. Axel _couldn't _be different. He wouldn't be able to take it.

Larxene cracked her knuckles, glancing at the computer tech before lazily walking towards the blond and taking the seat beside him. "Listen, kid, I've known Firecrotch for a long, long time. Way longer than any of these guys, okay? And he's not the type to ever give up that easily. He's going to wake up and be exactly the same as he was. Trust me." Roxas nodded at her, his eyes downcast, and she just let it go, leaning back in the uncomfortable hospital chair like it was the most natural thing in the world. She wasn't a nice person by nature, but some things…she couldn't just let them go.

"It doesn't matter now anyway." The older brunette cut in after a while, his voice taking on that commanding tone it always seemed to. "There's nothing we can do for Axel except wait and try to find out who did this to him. Agreed?" Collectively, the team nodded. "Larxene, I need you, Sora, and Riku to look through Axel's crime scene. He had to leave it in a hurry, and I'm willing to bet that he left something behind. Send anything you find straight to Vexen and Marluxia at the lab— the reports can wait until later. Demyx, Zexion, I want the two of you to revisit Ansem. See if he can tell us anything about that note we found in the office. Look for anything abnormal while you're there. Roxas and I will stay here and look after Axel."

As the last words left his lips, the team dispersed, the three headed towards the crime scene slinking down one hall, while Demyx literally dragged Zexion down the one opposite, one pale boney wrist held tightly between calloused fingers.

And as soon as they turned into an empty hallway, the blond had the criminal pushed up against the wall, his head knocking against the brick in a way that made him see stars. He didn't protest the rough treatment; he just watched as Demyx sunk to his knees and cried into his chest, tears staining his baggy shirt and soaking through to his taut skin. Part of him wanted to make him stop, to say something scathing and cruel just to make it all go away. But the other part wanted to cry with him, cry for one of the only people that ever bothered to give a damn about him, cry for one of the only people he had ever even sort of thought of as a friend.

In the end, he did neither.

Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor, hugging the other around his neck and allowing him to bury his face against his collarbone as he cried, limp blond hairs tickling the underside of his chin, angry tears sliding down his skin and trailing down to the salty stain of its kind just above his naval. They didn't speak. They didn't kiss. And they didn't move for a long, long time. But that was okay.

They both really needed this.

**K3YBLAD3**

Shaking, he swallowed down the bile that was steadily fighting against his throat, taking a step closer and crouching down, his knees making a sickening popping sound that stood out in the room's tense silence. He wanted to run away. He wanted to run away and never come back, to find a new job, to forget about everything. He knew he couldn't do that, but the thought was a nice one that gripped at his chest whenever cases like these emerged. It wasn't that he minded the case particularly. It was sick and it was twisted and it was everything that he would never be able to fully comprehend, but he understood that cases like these_ had_ to happen. That was just how the world was. He didn't believe in changing it anymore— he'd seen far too many bodies to ever think about something so childish. It was an unobtainable fantasy that he would never be able to turn into reality.

And that was okay in the same way that it was okay for him to entertain the fantasy of running away from all of his problems and just forgetting that they exist. They were both just stupid fantasies that could never really happen. It didn't matter than sometimes he wished that they were real. It didn't matter that he sometimes dreamed of a perfect world where no one ever had to die. None of it mattered.

Except when everything became far too personal, when he was the one that was losing someone. Then, those little dreams and fantasies became something else entirely. The unobtainable want that gnawed at the pit of his stomach that made reality seem far too real.

"This place smells worse than the morgue." Riku commented idly, scrunching his nose. Sora let out a slight sort of noise in agreement, biting at his lower lip and swallowing heavily. The smell was what made everything so real. Not only was the scene before them grotesque, burns marring the concrete surface beneath their feet, sticky blood littering it in places, but the smell literally burned at their airways, the oxygen that they were steadily breathing contaminated with death and decay. He could pick out the faint hint of used gasoline, overshadowed by the overwhelming aroma of fire, of cooking flesh that was still alive, melting to the blood and tissue as it was encased in the flames. And it was Axel's flesh that was burning, just as it was Axel who was bound to the remains of the chair before them, its wooded seating acting as some sort of open-ended tomb.

The brunette was sickened, his lightly tanned skin turning a nasty shade of pale green as he clenched his fists to keep them from shaking, his pocket notebook biting into his one of his palms. "Larxene would probably resent that." He mumbled, eyes narrowing at the soot-coated concrete below his knee, the light powder an obvious sign of the fire that had so recently occurred. He honestly just didn't want to think about it anymore, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't just forget. Everything was right in front of him, and he couldn't just ignore it. He knew that he had to make the hurt go away somehow, but how was he supposed to do that when he was one of the victims this time? How was he supposed to just sit back and say that he was sorry for everything, that he would do whatever he could to make it all just go away? He just didn't know how.

"Probably, but Larxene is still outside looking for a flashlight so it's not like she's here to complain." The brunette nodded in agreement with a slight tilt of his head, brown spikes bouncing and swaying to hit at his cheeks, blue eyes calculating. Riku didn't seem affected by this at all. It was like it was just another victim, just another person that had been hurt. But it wasn't. It wasn't just another person. Axel wasn't like that. Axel was a person, someone that they had worked with on countless cases. He was their friend. He was someone that they cared about, not just another victim. And he knew that they didn't always see eye to eye with one another— Axel and Riku went together like oil and water most of the time— but that didn't mean that Riku really didn't care, did it?

With a sigh, he stood, watching as Riku circled around the blackened remains of the chair, running his latex covered fingertips across the backrest without even batting an eye, shifting his weight from one side to the other. After a moment, he cocked a silver eyebrow, those strangely colored pools of his turning to Sora curiously. "Something wrong?"

The brunette bit at his inner cheek , nervously shuffling his feet along the concrete. What was he supposed to say? That Riku was heartless? No. Riku could never be heartless. He cared about him. He took care of him when he was first starting out. He was always there to make it easier, to make things seem that much brighter so he didn't have to fix everything all by himself. But Riku hated Zexion. He was aggressive towards the criminal even in the beginning, and he just became more and more hostile with him as time went on. Sora had never seen him act so antagonistically towards another human being before. Ever. He hadn't even known he was capable.

But he was, and the hatred that he harbored for Zexion was slowly turning into something else, morphing and mutating to others as well. He acted angrily towards Demyx now because of Zexion; what if that had transferred to Axel as well? What if he didn't really care about what had happened? What if he didn't consider Axel as anyone other than a victim now? What if he was nothing to him? Sora didn't want that. He wouldn't be able to stand it. Riku wouldn't be Riku anymore.

"Do you…care?" He finally asked, watching as the silverette's face twisted into an expression of disbelief and something bordering on anger. Eventually, he just shook his head, looking away and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Of course I care, Sora. How couldn't I?" And Sora wanted to take everything back because the biting hurt in the other's voice honestly caught him off guard.

"It's just that—" Sora let out a long sigh, shaking his head sharply. "I don't know, Riku. You just don't seem...Sometimes, you just seem like this is just another case to you. And it's not. It's not just another case." He bit at his lower lip, nervously turning away.

He could feel Riku's arms circling around his waist before they actually touched him, his cool skin pulling him closer into a loose sort of hug, one that would let him pull away if he wanted to. For a while, he didn't say anything; he just rested his chin on top of Sora's shoulder and stared ahead unseeingly, silver wisps of hair falling in front of his face. He sighed again, letting all of the tension drain from his shoulders before pulling Sora a little closer, grabbing at him just a little tighter than he was before. The brunette didn't complain. "It's not that I don't care. I just show it differently than you and the others do, okay?"

The Human Behavioral Specialist scrunched his nose, blue eyes glazing as he tried to get a better look at the profiler. "Would you be sad if it was Zexion or Demyx that this had happened to?" He mumbled in one big rush, wincing as the words left his mouth.

He winced as Riku's grip became even tighter, plastering him to his middle and squeezing his ribs, his muscles tensing as he pulled him closer. Sora knew that he should be afraid. Riku was stronger than him, taller and more able. If he wanted to inflict any type of harm, hurt him in any way, then he could. It would be child's play to him. But he wasn't afraid. Riku was his friend. He'd never hurt him; not intentionally, at least. "No. Why would you think that I wouldn't be?"

"Because you hate them." Sora brought his hands to his mouth, effectively cutting himself off as he squeezed his eyes shut to the point that they hurt. Why did he keep talking? Why was he saying such things? They were wrong and hurtful, and Riku wasn't— Riku was his friend.

Behind him, Riku tensed a bit more before removing his hands from around the other's waist and twirling him around to face him, an arm's length away. The brunette let out a strangled sort of squeak, but didn't move any farther away, even though he was scared that Riku was mad at him. He wouldn't blame him if he was. He was— why was he doing this?

"I don't hate them." The silverette sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. "I just— it's a little difficult to explain." Sora tilted his head to the side, confused. And Riku couldn't blame him for that. He couldn't really blame him for anything. He wasn't good with people. He said what he thought when he thought it, and he knew that he came off as a little different than most people, a little more detached, uncaring. Sora was someone that he cared about, took care of, but he must come off as strange to him as well. Sora was normal. When he cared about people, he let them know it, and Riku just wasn't like that.

"Then make it not complicated."

The brunette took a hesitant step forward, swallowing thickly. And Riku just sighed. What was he supposed to tell him? He didn't want to lie. He wouldn't lie. He _couldn't _lie. This was _Sora_. "I'm like Demyx in a way." He winced as the younger just looked at him, tilting his head to the side in just the slightest way. "I mean, I'm not like him too, but— we're the same. Our backgrounds anyway."

"Backgrounds?" Sora echoed.

He nodded the affirmative, running his fingers through his hair and shaking it harshly. "I'm not from Atlantica or anything like that, but you know my mom died, right? Yeah. Well, she was killed. Someone pulled her into an alleyway on her way home from work and brutally murdered her. End of story."

Sora gaped, his blue eyes widening. "I'm— I didn't…I'm so sorry. So, so, so sorry." And what else was he supposed to say? He was so— he hadn't even _thought _of the possibility that maybe something like that had happened. And he really hadn't known. He was his friend and he _hadn't_ known.

The silverette just waved him off. "Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago…but that's why. I can't stand criminals. What they do, who they are." He shrugged, his voice even and disinterested as he turned back towards the crime scene. "It's not that I hate Zexion because he's Zexion. It's nothing personal— he's just a criminal. And I don't hate Demyx either. I just hate the way he acts towards him, accepts everything so easily."

The younger nodded even though Riku couldn't see him, looking down at his feet as he did so. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" He asked hesitantly, watching as the older just shrugged his shoulders, beginning to circle the chair's remains once again. Biting at his lower lip, he took another step closer. "Why didn't you tell _me_?"

And Riku stopped, twisting to turn back towards him and shaking his head sadly. "I'm not a victim, Sora. I didn't want you to see me as one."

The brunette nodded at that, his eyes downcast. He understood why Riku didn't tell him. He completely understood it. Really, he did. Riku was someone that was self-reliant. He took care of his own problems, and that was just how he was. Not letting anyone know about what happened to his mother was probably just his way of keeping to himself, of keeping himself detached from everyone else. But that didn't make it hurt any less. He was Riku's friend; didn't that count for something?

"Okay."

After a while of just standing there staring at one another, they returned to work, Riku continuing to analyze the scene while Sora tried to find anything that looked out of place. Larxene came back at some point, complaining about the lack of flashlights located on hand and curling her hair around her blood-coated gloves as she scraped the melted skin off of the chair, placing it in a little vial and smiling that strange smile that she always did as she worked. And then suddenly, she wasn't smiling anymore, she was scowling as those electric eyes of hers narrowed.

Carved into the charred wood, hidden by burnt skin, there was a word.

**K3YBLAD3**

"You should try to get some rest." Leon mumbled, looking over the case notes in his hands, brows knitted with barely contained frustration.

Roxas merely looked at him, shaking his head and tightening his grip around this fingers trapped between his palms. He couldn't rest even if he wanted to. Not with Axel this close, not with those bandages wrapped around him and covering his skin like patchwork. It just didn't seem right.

Honestly, none of it seemed right. Axel looked so small— dwarfed— spread out across the hospital bed, crisp, white sheets draped over his sleeping form and hiding most of the bandages from view, his flaming red hair fanned out around his face, blackened around the edges. He looked like a corpse, his skin a stark contrast to the shade it normally was. It practically blended into the bandages that traced up his arms, hiding his blistered skin from view. Wires of all shapes and sizes were stuck inside of him, rubber tubing carrying fluids into his dehydrated veins. And Roxas couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand seeing him like this. Broken and beaten and wrong- his chest heaving with every beep on that damn monitor that would slow and then spike, his breaths short and then even, sometimes nonexistent.

It was all just so very, very wrong.

Axel was cocky. Axel was infuriating and frustrating and everything else. He was someone who _cared_. He was someone that wanted to live. He was not someone who would ever willingly let someone do this to him. He was not Tron.

The blond gritted his teeth at the thought. Tron, someone who cared about him and then just let himself die. He knew it wasn't his fault. Tron was a victim just like all the others. It was just that…Tron had taken care of him. He was the one that made him a part of the organization. He was the one that acted like the father he had never really had.

And then he had just let himself die.

He hadn't fought back, or even tried to get away. He would have known what was coming. He was a senior member, so he would have known that he was going to get killed, that he was going to become just another person to get lost in some serial killer's file. Roxas knew he was being selfish about this. He knew that he was only thinking of himself and that it was a despicable way to be. But it still hurt.

Knowing that he cared about someone so much, that he _depended _on someone so much, and then having them ripped away without even trying to stay— it just hurt. It hurt to the point that he just wanted to give up and let everything go. Because Tron had done exactly what _he _had done. His dad had never really cared about him or his mother; he'd just left them when they had needed him the most. And Tron had too. He had left when Roxas had really needed him.

He knew that it wasn't the same thing. His father had left; Tron had died. They were two entirely separate things, but they still seemed the same to him. Emotionally, it was the same. One had left figuratively while the other had left literally. In the end, Roxas was still left to fend for himself, and no amount of acknowledgement or understanding would change that. It _couldn't _change that.

And now Axel was leaving him too.

With a shaky breath, he shook his head. No. Axel wasn't leaving him. Axel was still alive. He would survive this. He _had _to survive this.

Almost unperceivably, Roxas tightened his grip around those fingers once again.

**K3YBLAD3**

"You young men look absolutely terrible, if you don't mind me saying so."

Demyx rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, forcing a smile for the elderly man before him. Ansem Wise looked exactly the same as he had the last time he and Zexion had come to visit him. Dressed professionally, that voice of his strong and sure, he represented the clear picture of age. He wasn't feeble by any means, but the way that he walked, the way his white-blond hair hung about his face, it all spoke of the years. The years he had already passed, and those that were to come. But that was okay. Age was something to be cherished, each wrinkle and scar a testament to what once was.

"May we come in?" He asked politely, watching as one of Ansem's white-blond eyebrows quirked.

"I'm assuming this has something to do with the murders?" He wrinkled his nose in understanding before stepping aside, clicking the door closed as Zexion slipped past. "I presume that you boys still remember where my study is located? Yes, well, wait for me there while I get us some drinks. Something tells me that this is going to be a bit of a discussion." And with that, he scurried off, rolling up the sleeves of his periwinkle sweater and disappearing into the doorway at their right. Demyx just shook his head and headed towards the study, the criminal at his heels.

Like Ansem, the study was exactly the same as it had been before. The leather chairs were still positioned in just the same way, books lining the back wall. Ruby red curtains were still adorning the large windows, and the desk was just as cluttered as it was during their last visit— if not more so. To Demyx, it felt like walking back in time, before so many others had been lost, before things had become quite so complicated.

Strangely enough, he didn't want to go back. A part of him did, of course, but that was normal. Everyone always yearns to go back to some point, for things to be easier, to have the chance to do something all over again. The much larger part of him— the part that really mattered— would never want to go back, _could _never go back. The last time that he and Zexion had been sent here, he'd still been such a child about things. He had known what was happening, yet he had still thought that he could fix things, make them better for everyone.

And that was such a uselessly naïve thought.

Bad things happen. He knew that; he had always known that. But right after Tron was killed, he had still thought that he could change things. He had still thought that he could really save everyone if he tried hard enough. And he supposed that he still could in a way— but it wasn't the same. He didn't have that kind of power. He couldn't ever truly save everyone. Maybe someone, just not everyone. And there was a big difference in that.

"Do you think that Axel is really going to be okay?" The blond jolted, oceanic pools searching for the younger's deeper blue ones. He was already sitting in one of those leather chairs, his back stiff, his fingers knotted together nervously in his lap. And then it hit him. Zexion sounded like he was terrified. He honestly sounded concerned, _scared_ that Axel might not be okay, that he might just disappear.

He gave the other a reassuring, lazy sort of smile, taking his own seat and reaching over to unknot the other's hands. "If Larxene says that he's going to make it through okay, then I believe it. She's hardly ever wrong when it comes to—," he shook his head a little, letting a strained sort of laugh pass, "anything, actually. I've never known her to be wrong about anything." And he knew that he still sounded concerned himself— he couldn't hide the strange sort of twang in his voice— but Zexion seemed to understand what he was trying to do, the criminal allowing Demyx to unknot his fingers and pull them straight across his lap. It even seemed as though he allowed himself to lean back a little, his small frame sinking into the cushioned leather.

Slowly, he leaned back himself, watching as Zexion's fingers twitched in his lap, his head downcast with those eyes of his shrouded by his fringe. He wanted to talk with the other and take his mind off of things, but he knew that it wouldn't work. The other Demyx, the person that he was before the case had started, wouldn't have understood. He would have tried to make the other talk and tell him things, confide in him. But he knew better than that now. He had cried and shook and held the other close, and then Zexion….He hadn't yet. He just needed to come to terms with things on his own. And while crying in silence in the hallway of a hospital worked for Demyx, Zexion was a whole different person.

Behind them, the blond heard light footsteps coming closer to the study, and not a moment later, Ansem slid through the space between the door and its hinge, a silver tray with iced lemonade resting on top of one of his palms. He smiled at the detective, his mouth taking on a funny sort of quirk as he took in the criminal's downtrodden form, before moving towards his desk, setting the tray on a precarious looking stack of papers and taking a seat in his chair. "Well, I do hope that I'm not interrupting something." He stated brightly.

Demyx just shook his head. "We're fine, Mr. Wise, but we really should be talking about the case."

Gravely, the man nodded, letting out a lengthy sort of sigh. "I suppose that we should. It is why we're here, is it not?" With practiced ease, he filled the lemonade glasses, standing in order to hand one to each of the team members, calloused fingers grabbing at the glass firmly, while pale, boney ones shook as they held their own. "Now, let's get straight to the point of the matter, why are you here?" He fell back into his chair, tilting his head towards the side. "I've already given you everything that I can. Of course, if you feel like I could be of a help to you with something else, I would gladly offer my full cooperation, but I simply have no idea as to what else I could do."

"That's wonderful to hear, Mr. Wise." The junior detective mumbled politely, taking a sip from his lemonade before setting it aside. "As I'm sure you've heard on the news, seventeen victims have been killed due to the serial killer that we're trying to locate. Another has been badly burned," he swallowed down the lump in his throat, pushing forward in the way that his training had taught him, "and is currently in critical condition. At this point, we would like to ask you if you remember anything else about those letters that you were sent, or if you happen to remember anyone— anyone at all— that stands out as a member of the community and has an unhealthy obsession with either yourself or your books."

"So," Ansem drawled, leaning forward on his elbows, "you are still no closer to catching this man, are you? After all this time, there still hasn't been a break in the case?" He shook his head sadly, eyes downcast. "And there have been so many so far. Belle, that wonderful dear, and little Miss Kairi Heart— then all those others. It's all just so terrible.

"But, I'm unsure of how I could be of any more help to you. I would like to be, believe me, but there's nothing else that I can think of. My books have always been popular around the town, but never to the point of obsession. And there's no one that really stands out to me. You have to understand, I've known most of these people for their entire lives; I've watched the majority of them go through high school, buying cookies and useless trinkets through those fundraisers that all children do. How could I ever think such horrible things about them? They're my neighbors."

Demyx nodded his understanding, taking in the stressed look on the man's face with the eyes of someone much more experienced than himself. Ansem was telling the truth— he honestly didn't know. "I realize that, Mr. Wise. No one ever expects it, but there has to be something. Something a little strange, something that set you off balance for just a moment or two. It doesn't have to be something really noticeable, and it might have seemed insignificant at the time. Whether you think it's important or not, everything means something; it's just a matter of realizing what it is."

The author leaned back and looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. After a moment, a shiver ran down his spine, causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand on edge. There had been something a little different, a little odd, but it had been such a long time ago now. White-blond eyebrows furrowed as he let his gaze drop back towards the detective. "There was this one time months and months ago. I don't know if it will help you at all, but there was just something off about it. I was at the local butcher's shop— the one owned by Mr. Franks— and I was speaking about my upcoming book in the series with that Yuffie girl that lives in town. It was a normal conversation, with her asking questions and trying to figure out what is going happen to that Vincent character I have. But that wasn't what struck me. That boy, the butcher's brother? Yes, he was staring at us both. He didn't move to speak to us or contribute to the conversation. He was just standing there…his fingers tapping against one of the knives.

"I know it must sound silly, but it was— well, it wasn't terrifying or even particularly odd for that boy, but it was uncomfortable. The two of us actually had to take our conversation outside in order to get away from him." Ansem scrunched up his nose in distaste, running his hand through his hair. "Saying it out loud makes it sound terribly unimportant, and I don't want to lead you astray with this. It's just that it was such a strange thing."

"No, no. That's not unimportant at all." The blond shook his head, making a note in his pocket-sized notebook. "Is there anything else that you can think of?"

"I should think not." The man let out another sigh, twisting the fluid around in his glass disinterestedly. "As I said before detective, these people are my neighbors. And while I may not be as close to them as I have been in the past, I don't believe any of them capable of ever actually hurting anyone, let alone murdering them. Now, is there anything else you would like to ask me or is that all?"

"Liar." Zexion stated lowly, his voice hollow and strained as he straightened his back and turned the untouched glass of lemonade around in his hands.

Ansem pursed his lips, sounding either highly annoyed or amused. "Excuse me, young man?"

The criminal cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. "At one of the recent crime scenes, we found a note with the word liar scribbled across it. Would you happen to know what that could mean?" He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes almost unnoticeably as Ansem's back stiffened, the old man's smile dropping into a look of horror before he carefully schooled it back into a forced sort of smile.

"I'm sorry, but I really have no idea what that means." He stood, that false smile still plastered across his lips as he collected their glasses. "Now, if you don't think it terribly rude of me, I would like to return to work. I do have a big deadline coming up this weekend. Can I trust the two of you to show yourselves out?" He stopped at the doorway, looking over his shoulder at the two of them as he opening the door the rest of the way and stepped out into the hall.

Numbly, the dirty blond nodded, pocketing his notes and leading Zexion back towards the home's foyer, his brows knitted. He chanced a glance back towards the kitchen where he was sure that Ansem stood nervously fiddling with their dishes before shaking his head and continuing to the man's porch, the fresh air hitting him with a strong breeze that caused his hair to fan about his face.

"He knows something." He voiced after they had stood there for a time. Behind him, Zexion just dumbly nodded, brows nearly touching as he walked silently towards the car. Ansem knew something about what was going on. Lair had meant something to him. He knew that; he understood that.

But that didn't mean that he understood what it all meant.

**K3YBLAD3**

Bodies were such beautiful things at times, he decided, smiling down at his handiwork. Really, they were just so, so pretty all covered in their own blood, their eyes lifeless and unseeing. Such beautiful, beautiful creatures they were. So much better than they were alive. Alive they were all so very vile, just nasty little things that were only looking out for themselves.

They were useless little liars that didn't deserve to live. All of them. Every single last one.

With that thought in mind, he began to carve, placing the word beneath the right eye of the lithe blond that once was. He dug in a little harder than necessary, spreading the access blood that flooded out in pools and ran down those cooling cheeks in streams. Oh so wonderful, oh so very beautiful. And soon, soon enough, _he _would be just like this as well. All his lies taken away, replaced with something beautiful.

And they would all see once he was done.

They would all see that he wasn't crazy. They would all see that there was a purpose to everything he did. And they would thank him for saving them all from their idiocy, for showing them what happened to all those nasty liars that pervaded the earth. The people of this town wouldn't run to those detectives anymore. They wouldn't run to the police or that man. No, they would all run to him. Everything would be his.

Carefully, calmly, he pocketed his utensil, now covered in that lovely ruby red liquid. Now should he kill the other one? By all rights, he was supposed to die. Coolly, he stepped forwards, running his gloved hands along the IV before him. It would be surprisingly easy to end this life as well. His death was long overdue. Really, it was.

But no.

He wouldn't take this one. He smiled that nasty smile, coating under the patient's chin with a line of blood that matched the color of his earlier victim's hair. This one had already served his purpose. Leaving him alive wouldn't hurt. No, no it wouldn't. It wouldn't hurt to leave one as an example, a testament to his wrath.

Smiling giddily at the thought, he left the room, strolling down one of the hospital's many white hallways with an uncharacteristic swing in his step. There was only one more, and then his real prize could be claimed.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was like creating chocolate Travelocity gnomes with my teeth. It was terrible! Nothing wanted to come out right and it didn't flow correctly and it was shorter than I wanted and ugh~ I sort of just want to kill it right now. Though, I'll admit that I do like a few little pieces of this...just not many. **

**Anyway, I really don't have a lot to say about this chapter...Roxas is gone now if you can't tell (I'm not entirely sure that I made it noticeable that it was him or not), and I did try to give him more of a background in this chapter. I also tried to make Riku's perspective on things a bit more apparent as well. I know that I've made him a complete jerk in this, but that wasn't my original intention and I hope that everyone can understand him a little better now, even if there is no excuse for his behavior. **

**Oh! And Sora and Riku are just friends! That weird hugging moment in there was just as friends! (It was a little weird though...and hey, you're free to think whatever you want about them ^_-).**

**Production: I'm hoping to finish this story sometime during this month. Which means, if all goes well, there should be three more updates before the thirtieth. I make no promises as to whether or not that will actually happen or not, but that's the goal. **

**Quiz Winner(s): No quiz last chapter. **

**Quiz: Why did the killer chose to carve the word beneath the right eye? There is a reason for it, I promise! And it has _nothing _to do with the game! Also, how did you like Zexion's character in this chapter? Did he come across well, or just strange? **

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^_^**


	20. Fenrir

**Late again...There's no excuse. T.T**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~! **

**This chapter, like the last few, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know!**

**Also, ZiYu let me know with the last chapter that "brunette" should be "brunet" when refering to males. I've decided to leave it as it is with the rest of this story because it's already so far along, and instead just change the wordings with whatever I decide to do in the future. Sorry for any confusion. **

**Enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

The walls were white— such a sickly shade of white. Every brick in the line had that color splashed across it, dulling its natural rustic tint. But that was fine. He had never minded white. White was the color of purity, of innocence not yet lost. White was the absence of stains, the absence of misdeeds. It was the perfect beginning.

He shook his head, a slight smile curving at his lips before he turned to walk down the endless hall. White, white everywhere. It touched the ceiling and the tiled floors. It touched at the tips of his fingers, and covered him from head to toe, his entire body immersed in that innocence that he had once known. With this blinding white, it didn't matter where he was going or what awaited at the end of the hall. That could all wait, as it had for such a long time. For years and years he'd had this dream, yet he never did quite make it to the end.

But that was fine. For now, he was content just to walk, running the tips of his fingers across that brightened brick and listening to the shuffling of his boots against tile. So that's what he did. He walked and walked and walked down that hallway. And then he stopped, tilting his head to the side as it abruptly turned off, the forward path blocked but another open to his right. For a moment, he just stared at it. He could stop. He knew that he could. This was his dream, and if he just stopped now, he was sure that he would wake up soon. There would be no harm in it. But then he knew that it would bother him. He had always been one to take risks for this, that, and the other, so what would be the harm? It wasn't like he could actually get hurt by anything here— it was only a dream after all.

With that in mind, he turned down the adjacent hall, nearly slipping as it sloped downward. Now, there was nothing different about this hall. It was just as white as the other and it did seem to be just as endless, just as innocent. So he continued to walk, those boots of his shuffling against the tile in that familiar way, his fingertips running across the brick. He went on like that for a while just as content as he had always been.

But then he stopped. It was getting darker, like someone had forgotten to put lights at the end of the tunnel. He tilted his head to the side, watching transfixed as the tunnel seemed to shrink, the very end of it turning into a black abyss, the area around him a dull sort of gray. He decided that it didn't matter. He'd been having this dream for years and it seemed as though he was finally going to reach the end. Somehow, he liked that thought of finally figuring it all out, removing this puzzling dream from his subconscious and moving on to another.

So he kept walking, those fingers of his on the wall, those feet of his just shuffling along. And then he stopped again, turning abruptly only to find that the path was gone. Gone, gone, gone. It was all boarded up. He narrowed his eyes at it, but then continued on, realizing that there really was no way to go but forward. And it was still only a dream anyway. Dreams can never really hurt you.

For a while more, he just kept walking, and everything was as it was before. It was just him walking along an endless hallway. The only difference was that he could no longer turn back and that it wasn't quite as light as his other dreams had been. But that was fine. Perfectly and completely fine. He'd never been afraid of the dark— not even as a child so many years ago.

He smiled carefully as he seemed to have found the end of the hall, an endless abyss before him. Cautiously, he put his hand against the darkness just to test and see what would happen. When nothing did, he continued on, using his hand on the wall to guide him. And everything was just as normal as it had always been, only much, much darker than before.

But then it wasn't dark at all. It was white again, and he wasn't in a hall at all, but a room. A spacious white room that was empty save for a white chair in the very middle of it. He looked around for a moment and, after realizing that there was really nothing else, he decided to take a seat, his feet aching even in his precious dream world. And then he watched, transfixed, as the blackened hall from which he came covered itself, making it so that that white room of his was completely cut off from the rest of the world.

Strangely, he didn't really mind. It was only a dream.

"_Would you like to buy some cookies from us?" _He jumped, startled by the little redheaded girl before him, her blue eyes wide and innocent as she led her group of friends, a white dress with purple tips covering her and stretching down to her knees. _"We're selling them for the school and we would really, really, _really_ appreciate it! So please, pretty please?"_ She smiled at him, her front tooth missing on one side, those shadowing friends behind her as she tilted her head.

And then he realized that he knew this scene and he knew this girl. Little Kairi Heart— she was such a sweet little thing, and it was just so terrible that she was gone now, only to exist in dreams. "Of course I'll buy some cookies from you. Every single one of you." He smiled sadly at the children, every single one, tears in his eyes. "And I'll even buy double. I'll buy double the cookies that anyone else has bought. How does that sound?"

"_Cookies, Mr. Wise? I thought you wanted flowers?" _And then his chair was turning on its own, bringing him face to face with Belle, the church keeper, dirt clinging to her elbows as she held a bouquet of lilies out to him. _"Aren't they beautiful?"_

"Such beautiful things. Really, Belle, your flowers are always the best." He assured, not comprehending, not understanding as he went to reach for the flowers. And she just smiled as the chair turned again.

"_Mr. Wise, Mr. Wise, he's stuck! He's going to get trapped up there and__—__"_ The little brunette just cried at him, a Selphie from only a year or so ago. Not very young, but still young enough. She wanted help getting her kitten Simba down from a tree, and he couldn't say no. He would never be able to say no.

"Don't worry, he'll be just fine. Really. Just let me get him down for you, dear." But he never had the chance. The chair turned again, taking Selphie away and replacing her with Luxord Dorlu, one of his blond eyebrows cocked at him.

"_And here I thought we were talking about business deals. Where is your head?" _And he smiled, only to disappear as the chair just turned and turned and turned.

"_Mr. Wise, I'd like to make sure that security is up to your standards for the book signings."_

"_Are you coming to the cookout next weekend? Hercules is really looking forward to it."_

"_It's magic, Mr. Wise. Didn't you know that?"_

"_Karate? Are you sure you'd like to__—__"_

"_I'll have this suit of yours tailored up perfectly. Don't you worry. You're going to be the bell of the ball. That is__—__ not really the bell, but oh! You know what I mean, don't you?"_

And then it was absolute silence as they all disappeared. All those people that he used to know that had disappeared from his life, that had all just gone away like they had never been there at all. With shaking breaths, he pinched at his forearms, trying to make himself wake up. He closed his eyes and counted, but when he opened them again— the dream was over.

And the nightmare was just beginning.

Words. Words painted in blood were stretched across the walls. Every single key— written and crafted and dripping that blood down the white, white walls. It pooled and puddled and stretched to impossible lengths, staining the tips of his boots and crawling up the chair. It wasn't going to stop; it didn't want to stop. Oh no. It just kept crawling and crawling until he was the one dripping in blood, he was the one with the bloodstained hands.

And then it was dark again, and he couldn't move. His legs and arms— they were both bound, the blood acting like some sort of glue that was intent on keeping him in place, on trapping him. It was eating at him, soaking through his shirt and biting at his skin like nails. But then it was light and the words— the words, the words, the _words_. They had transformed. Liar, liar, _liar_ they screamed, dripping and pooling and accusing.

But soon, they were gone as well. The entire room plunged into blackness once more, that blood attacking his chest, eating at his ankles, grabbing at his hair. And there was a hand by his shoulder, a crooked smirk by his ear.

"_Are you ready for the end?"_

Screaming, he finally awoke, sweat peeling off of him in pools and dampening his bed sheets, his breathing erratic and irregular. He flipped on the light beside his bed, and then it was just him looking in the mirror across from the bed. And that's when he realized.

White can also mean the end.

**K3YBLAD3**

"He got Roxas too." It was more of a statement then a question, the words foreign and unnatural on his lips. No one bothered to confirm or deny his statement with a nod or words of their own. They weren't necessary. It was obvious that the blond was gone.

Axel had been moved farther down the hall to an area that was busier for added protection and the blond— the only member of their team who had refused to leave his side since the incident— was missing. And, as much as Demyx wanted to believe otherwise, that had to mean that he was gone. Gone and never coming back. Nothing else could have made Roxas leave.

"How did it happen?" He asked, swallowing down the lump in his throat and stepping closer so that he was directly at Axel's bedside, Zexion shadowing him at a short distance. The redhead didn't look like the same cocky detective that the junior had always known him to be; he didn't look like the same cocky _friend _that he had always known him to be. But he was alive, and Demyx supposed that that was all that really mattered.

Leon shook his head, eyes hooding with barely concealed guilt. "I...went to the cafeteria to get us some coffee. When I came back, Roxas was already gone." He rubbed at his temples, attempting to ward off those unnecessary feelings that kept coming at him. They were useless right now. Maybe someday— someday he could look back and realize them for what they were, but not now. No. Now, they were just getting in the way, messing with his head and biting at his rational thoughts. "I wasn't gone for more than fifteen minutes."

"But Roxas was still gone." Sora mumbled mostly to himself, curled with his knees to his chest as he sat on the hospital's cold tile, his back to the wall. He wasn't going to say that he was okay anymore. Better than Tron and Auron and _Roxas_— and even better than Axel, but still not okay. Not even remotely okay. People were dying here, but that was fine. He was perfectly okay with that. People die all the time in all parts of the world. Sometimes there's a purpose and sometimes there isn't. But this wasn't the same as that. There were just so many people, so many bodies piling up in the morgue, to many friends disappearing and getting hurt. Just too many. He couldn't stand it. "How many does that leave us? How many more are there going to be before this stops?"

"Three." The criminal swallowed thickly at the young brunette's strangled sort of cry, watching as he just shook his head over and over, Riku sinking to his side and placing an arm around his shoulder comfortingly. "There are three left."

"But there won't be that many." The profiler ground out levelly, his voice sharp and unmistakable. "We'll catch him before he gets to the end. We _have _to."

Demyx nodded his agreement, ghosting his fingers across Axel's bandaged arms. He didn't even flinch at the contact. "So where do we start? Everything else has come up as nothing. It's all just been a dead end, leading us in circles. Where do we stand?" He clenched his jaw, his touch on the redhead remaining light and even as it moved towards his collarbone. He didn't care who it was or how it happened, but he _would _make this man pay for everything he had done. And that was a promise that he refused to break. He wasn't a child anymore.

"With all the broken pieces." Larxene piqued, that strange sort of smirk quirking at her lips, her covered feet squeaking rhythmically as they tapped against the white tiles. "It's just like that body a few days ago— it's one big puzzle."

Slate brows furrowed, their owner taking a step forward and grabbing at his arms as if to steady himself. Pieces. If everything is a piece and everything means something, then wouldn't it stand to reason that they just hadn't put them together correctly yet? They were twisting the pieces, moving them and bending them and trying to make them fit. But that wasn't right. They couldn't make anything fit; it all just had to fall into place. "Then we need the edges."

"Edges?"

Zexion nodded at the team leader, falling back so that he was a little closer to Demyx's side, his shoulder bumping against his familiar weight lightly, his borrowed jeans shuffling and crunching underneath his shoes. "When you put together a puzzle, you're supposed to start at the edges and build your picture from there. It's supposed to make the pieces fall into place easier, quicker. If this is all just a puzzle, then we need the edges, the most pertinent pieces of evidence that we've collected so far. It might not—" He faltered, biting at his lower lip. "It might not work. We might still be missing something, but—"

"No." And Riku gave him a slight sort of smile, one arm still around Sora, those strangely colored eyes of his trained on the criminal with an unblinking gaze. "That's…probably the best idea so far. Even if there are still pieces missing, they'll be easier to find just like you said— they'll just fall into place."

Fidgeting, Zexion nodded at the other curtly, deep blue eyes hiding the gears that were turning beneath his skin. "So where are our edges? What are the most important pieces of evidence that we've found?"

"Xanax, the drug used in Auron's murder. It's not easy to come by in such a high dosage. And then the way the words are carved so professionally. Your normal person couldn't etch into skin like that." Larxene explained, stepping away from the wall and closer towards the group, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"And Larxene found the word _fraud _etched in the chair at Axel's crime scene. That has to have something to do with that note— _liar_. They have to be connected in some way or another." The youngest brunette added, pulling away from Riku in just the slightest way, his innocent blue eyes wide.

The dirty blond nodded, those fingers of his still ghosting across Axel's damaged skin. "Ansem reacted to the word. He was open before, but he made us leave right after that. There was something wrong." Beside him, Zexion nodded, agreeing with him. "But before that, when he was still talking to us, he said that Kadaj, the younger brother at the butcher's shop, was staring at him and the gas station clerk down the street. He said that it was strange; it made the two of them uncomfortable enough to leave the store."

"And then there's the '_B_' that Xemnas outlined on his skin." Zexion crossed his arms in front of his chest, a scowl on his lips. Something was wrong. They were still missing something— something important. This evidence all led them to one place and one place only. It was…knotted. The pieces weren't in the right shape yet; they were still wrong. "We're missing something."

Silver brows furrowed. "Evidence doesn't lie." Riku stated blankly, those eyes boring into him. "If all the evidence leads to one person, I say we pick him up. Even if we're wrong in the end, it couldn't hurt to be safe." The words lacked any sort of bite, but the criminal winced. He knew what the profiler said was true. He knew that even if they were wrong it wouldn't matter if they secured the younger of the brothers, or even the both of them. But that didn't change anything. It still felt wrong, and he knew that. He knew that as much as the evidence said it was one of those two, as much as it said that they were the killers— it was wrong. The evidence was pointing in the wrong way; he knew it was.

"Riku has a point." Leon grumbled thoughtfully, raising a brow at the slate-haired younger. "Kadaj has a prescription for Xanax, medicine that both of the brothers had access too. They both have experience in cutting through flesh, and Ansem was able to link him back to a separate incident. Then, the '_B_' that Xemnas left for us could have meant 'butcher'. It all fits."

Zexion shook his head, gnawing on his lower lip with his teeth. "Then what about _fraud_ and _liar_. Those words don't fit with either Sephiroth or Kadaj."

The team's leader just shrugged, a silent growl echoing against his throat. "Kadaj is delusional. It's possible that the words mean nothing."

"They _have _to mean something." He insisted, taking a slight step forward. He _knew _that those words meant something; he _knew_ that they made the case. Without them, there was nothing. And there had to be something. He didn't care what the evidence said— they didn't do this. Those words would mean nothing to them.

"Enough!" And they all stopped, watching as Leon's jaw clenched, his arms moving stiffly to his sides, his voice echoing against the walls and vibrating in their ears. "Riku, Sora, Larxene, come with me." He barked, moving towards the door. "We're going to bring the butchers in for observation. Demyx and Zexion can stay here and look after Axel."

And with that, he was gone, slamming the door as he walked out, the criminal hunching his shoulders and wincing at the venom in which Leon said his name. For a moment, they just stood in silence, staring at the space that their leader had once been. Larxene was the one to break them out of it, shaking her head and heading towards the door, Sora and Riku following a pace or so behind.

The remaining pair didn't move for a long while, Demyx's oceanic orbs focused on Axel's sickly form, Zexion's orbs fixated on his shoes. He felt the blond grab his hand and pull it away from his chest, squeezing at his fingers gently and just not saying anything. The criminal barely noticed.

Something was still wrong.

**K3YBLAD3**

_Too-big emerald orbs went wide, a pout setting on thin lips. The slightly older redhead just smirked at him. And he hated it. He hated being smaller and skinnier and younger and__—__ it was just so _frustrating_! "Reno, give it back!" He held out his hand, palm out, as if that would make his brother give his toy back all the sooner. _

_It didn't work. "Why don't you make me?" Reno stuck out his tongue like the child he proclaimed he wasn't, pulling the model airplane just out of his brother's reach. Axel crossed his arms and did the only thing his ten-year-old self could do. He stuck his bottom lip out and let it quiver, big round tears starting to line around his eyelids. _

_The reaction was instant._

"_Sorry, sorry, _sorry_." The blue-eyed older hurriedly gave the plane back to him, touching at his shoulders and plastering on a nervous sort of smile. "No harm done, yo. Now don't cry. Just do _not _cry. Mom doesn't have to know about this. It can just be our little secret."_

_And Axel couldn't help but smirk, stepping away and pulling his toy to his chest. "I dunno…are you _sure _I shouldn't tell mom?" Reno just gaped at him, and the youngest redhead was basking in it. Ten years and Reno still couldn't stand the tears. It was just too easy._

_Eventually, Reno sighed, sinking into one of the beanbags in the playroom, its green fabric squishing beneath him. "You're the devil incarnate. I hope you know that, yo." Blue eyes looked at him accusingly. _

"_Why thank you." Axel smiled, the clear picture of innocence._

_Those eyes narrowed. "I hate you."_

"_Yup." _

"_And you suck, yo."_

"_Yup. That too." The older just threw his hands in the air, exaggeratedly falling backwards and sprawling. Emerald eyes widened amusingly. Sometimes, he hated his brother. At other times, he was glad that he was around. His parents were busy most of the time, so it was nice when Reno wasn't out with his friends and was willing to play with him. Reno was twelve and admittedly easier to get along with than Axel was__—__ which was probably why the little redhead didn't have very many friends__—__ but he always tried to make time for his little brother even though he was busy. _

_And he sometimes stole Axel's toys. The jerk._

"_Where'd you get the airplane anyway?" The younger tilted his head to the side, taking a step closer to the beanbag questioningly. Reno just raised his eyebrows as he came closer, the question still hanging between them. "Did your dad bring it to you?" _

_Axel nodded, coming closer still only to sink down to the floor and hold the toy out to his brother. He and Reno had different fathers, the older's father divorcing their mother when he was only a year old. His father had gotten custody of him, but two years after their mother had remarried Axel's dad he died, leaving a three year old Reno in their mother's care. "It was my present."_

"_From that trip he went on to the mountains last week?" Reno asked, straightening up and taking the airplane from his hands. It was obviously handcrafted, its sleek black lining finely done, the white rimming holding a certain air of professionalism. Cheekily, he tossed it back at him, watching as Axel fumbled to catch it and then glared when he had it firmly in his clutches. "Tell me, yo, have you ever thought about getting one of those things for yourself instead of having someone bring it back to you?"_

_The littlest redhead stood, clutching his toy protectively and cocking his boney hip. "Of course I have. And I _will_." His jaw set with that ever present defiant pout. "I'm going to hike up that mountain one day and bring one back for dad someday, just you wait." _

_Reno just laughed, balancing his chin on his palm. "Then it's a date, yo. You and me. One day, we'll go up that mountain." _

"_Really?" Emerald orbs lit up, a lopsided smile stretching across thin lips and baring a patchwork set of teeth, one or two missing from both sides, the result of a biking accident only a week or so before. "You'll go with me?"_

"_Yeah. And the rest of those hikers won't know what hit them! We'll be the fastest ones on the mountain!" _

"_Yeah….One day, we'll go. We'll be the best hikers they've ever seen. Just you and me. It's a promise." And Axel couldn't stop smiling, his plane held against his chest. _

**K3YBLAD3**

Leon crouched, one clad knee coating itself in a layer of white-gray dust. From what he could see, the butcher's shop was dark, giving off the appearance that it was empty as dusk began to fall. But he knew that both of the brothers were there. He had called in a pair of the local cops — incidentally the pair that had found the original body— as backup. According to them, the brothers lived on site, Sephiroth being the only one of the two that ever left the house, if one of them bothered to leave at all. It was possible that the two had just retreated to their living quarters, closing up the shop as dusk began to fall.

Either way, it didn't really matter. They were prepared to take them from any part of the house. He wouldn't allow them to escape.

With a curt nod of his head, Riku and the larger of the cops moved forward, Xaldin taking his place on the left side of the door and the profiler taking the other. The looked at each other for the go ahead before the younger of the two slung open the door, Leon and Xigbar rushing forward into the shop's main area. The area looked the same as it had days before, untouched and unchanged. Neither of the Franks siblings were in sight.

Scowling, Leon pushed forward, the team continuing on, Larxene and Sora bringing up the rear. All of the shop rooms were empty; the group stopped. Something wasn't right. The area was quiet and eerie, and there was still no sign of the brothers that were supposed to be there.

"If one of them is a killer, if they _are_ the ones doing this, wouldn't it make sense for them to be out hunting?" Xaldin grumbled gruffly, lowering his gun to his side.

Leon tilted his head slightly to the side. "Possible. There's no way for us to tell exactly when they come into contact with their victims. There were killed during all times of the night and day." And it was true. It would be perfectly logical that they just weren't there because they were out searching, searching for their next victim, the next person that they were going to take away.

But something just didn't feel right to him. Something still seemed wrong with this picture, like he was missing something. He shook it off. Leon didn't care what that criminal said or thought about this. The evidence pointed towards either one or the other, and he followed the evidence. Narrowing his eyes, he pushed forwards, nodding towards the others to follow.

They moved through the upstairs areas with practiced ease, their bodies tense as they looked for something, _anything_. But they found nothing. The bathroom was pristine and white, the bedroom across the hall nearly the same while the bedroom adjourning it was messy and rumpled. The hall held a picture or two, all filled with scenery and smiles, little silver-headed children gathered around a tall woman with long flowing hair of the same color.

Frustrated, the brunette stopped them, lowering his own weapon and cocking his weight to the side. They weren't here. They were too late. That criminal was wrong. These two were the ones behind it all and they were hunting. They were about to take someone else and they had no way of stopping it. If only Zexion hadn't been so sure that it wasn't them. Maybe they would have hurried, maybe they would have caught them before they managed to get away. Maybe they wouldn't have to worry about another bod—

He tensed, the muscles along his back tensing, the hairs on his neck standing on end. He chanced a quick glance at Sora, and with one look at those blue eyes he knew. He knew that he hadn't just imagined the sound that he had heard. He knew that it was really there.

Collectively, they moved forwards, guns at the ready once again. The sound was still there, a dull whimper that echoed in their ears. But where was it coming from? The floor below them was empty. There hadn't been a soul in any of the rooms, and he knew that there wasn't anyone sharing the floor that they were on now. It wasn't possible— they wouldn't have missed them.

And then he saw it, the door at the very end of the hall, its wood blending in with the wall and sinking into it. They were there, and he wasn't letting them get away.

Deftly, he moved forward, flinging the door open without a thought to protocol and running down the spiral staircase, ducking out of the way of the lower hanging stairs and skidding to a halt as the full lower room came into view.

The gun fell from his hand and all he could hear were the footsteps of his team members running up behind him, Sora's small body ramming into him and pushing him forward with surprising force. He didn't notice because what was before him, what awaited in the room— it was a horror story come to life.

Sephiroth Franks lay spread across the floor, his silver hair spread around him coated in the same ruby red blood that touched the walls, flowing across them like paint splatters. Kadaj lay at his side. And he was just rocking, rocking back and forth as he whimpered, his hands elbow deep in his brother's open gut as he put pressure on him like he was trying to stop the bleeding, trying to make it all just go away. But it wouldn't. It wouldn't just go away. Sephiroth's eyes were already lifeless, and it wouldn't matter anyway. There would be no helping him, his lower intestines shredded and littering the area that led to him, his tendons cut and pulled away from his bones, barely hanging on.

Dead. Sephiroth Franks was dead.

Faintly, he heard someone puke behind him, their stomach acid invading his senses long enough to pull him out of his shock. This was…this wasn't right. It was supposed to be one of them. They were supposed to be the killers. This nightmare was supposed to be over. It was all so perfect.

He shook his head violently at the thought. No. Zexion's was right. There was something wrong with perfection. There was _always _something wrong with perfection.

With his jaw clenched, Leon stepped forward, walking towards the body and sinking to his knees so that he was even with Kadaj. Slowly, cautiously, he grabbed at the man's shoulders. The younger reacted instantly, turning towards him with wide, tear-filled eyes, his breaths coming out in great gasps at those tears escaped, cascading down his face and mixing with his brother's blood. "H-He's…I-I didn't— he'll be okay, r-right? Brother will be okay. Brother is always okay." He shook his head when Leon pulled at him, trying to get him away, tightening his grip on his brother's mangled stomach and pushing against it with everything that he had.

But it was no use. His brother just wasn't waking up. Why? Why wasn't he waking? Brother was always such a light sleeper. He'd always come when he was having nightmares. He'd come and take care of him. Always. And he was having such a nightmare now. Such a horrible, horrible nightmare. Brother needed to wake and make it all go away.

"Brother is just— he's hurt but he'll be okay." He said assuredly, his lip quivering but his voice strong. Leon just looked at him, his chest rising and falling momentarily before he wrapped his arms around Kadaj's arms, sinking his own fingers into the deceased's abdominal cavity and unwrapping the other's hold with slippery fingers. And then he pulled him away, holding the other tightly and just letting him scream and scream as he struggled to get away, to get back to his brother— _because there was just so much blood and brother couldn't bleed like that and still be okay_.

After what seemed like hours of screaming, the younger slumped against him, going limp in his arms and threatening to topple them over. Leon didn't say anything; he simply pulled him away, taking him towards the stairs and past the prying eyes of his team, his cargo whimpering and pleading with his cracked lips, his voice nothing more than a whisper. And then, only then did he see it.

The word _Fenrir _painted across the back wall in the victim's blood, the letters dripping down through the stonework and curving along it in mismatched streams, the bright red of it laughing at them all.

**K3YBLAD3**

The first thing that he noticed was that there was something touching his face, tracing over his cheekbones with cool fingertips. Strangely, it didn't bother him. He knew that it should bother him and he knew that it normally would, but it didn't. His thoughts were too muddled, and it seemed to be the only thing keeping him grounded, a startling contrast with the faint burning sensation that he felt everywhere else.

So he let it go. It could stay there for now. Eventually, he would have to make it go away, but right now, he just wanted to remember. He knew that something had happened— something terrible that had hurt him— but he couldn't remember exactly what it was. He was a detective; he remembered that. He worked with a team run by Leon for a company that was controlled by Xemnas— but no. That was wrong. Xemnas was dead. They were on a case and Xemnas had been killed. They hadn't found the killer. They were looking but they hadn't found— oh.

He'd been attacked. That's what had happened. He and Roxas were fighting about something and he'd been grabbed. He'd been tied to a chair and then there was gasoline, and then he had been burning. And then there was screaming and pain and…Roxas. Then Roxas had been there and now he was here.

But where was here exactly?

With that thought in mind, his emerald eyes shot open, white light nearly blinding him as a slate-colored blob yelped and moved away, that comforting touch against his cheekbones leaving along with it. He blinked, propping himself up on his shaking elbows and biting the inside of his mouth to keep himself from cringing. White room, white sheets, bandages, heart monitor, IV connected to his arm— hospital. He was in a hospital.

He _hated_ hospitals.

"You're awake." He blinked again, tilting his head to the side with a wince and looking towards the edge of the bed. Zexion was leaning away from him, one hand knotting with his other as he spoke. Axel assumed that the slate-colored blob that was touching his face before was Zexion. He didn't bother to mention it.

"How long have I been out?" The redhead winced at the way his voice croaked, watching with emerald eyes as the criminal did the same.

"Nearly two days." Axel let his elbows fall out from under him, hissing as his back connected with the scratchy hospital mattress. The younger leaned over him, biting at his lower lip with wide deep blue eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked uncertainly.

He opened his mouth to answer, but then let it snap closed, the words dying in his throat. He wanted to say that he felt like he'd just been attacked, that everything felt like it was searing, constricted beneath the bandages that he could feel covering his tattered skin. But he didn't. Something seemed off with the way that Zexion was, his hands even more knotted than they had been before, his bottom lip hidden between two rows of whitened teeth. Worried, scared— that's how he was acting. Axel didn't understand it, but he knew better than to make it worse. "Yeah. I'm okay; it just hurts a little bit." He shot the younger what he hoped was a reassuring smile, watching as the criminal visibly seemed to relax. "So, you wanna tell me what's been going on while I was out?"

For a moment, the younger just looked away, both eyes exposed and downcast. "Do you want to know everything?" He finally mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest protectively before sinking into the uncomfortable hospital chair positioned at the bedside of the other. Honestly, he didn't want to be the one to tell him about Roxas. Zexion knew that it was illogical of him. He barely knew Axel even if he was closer to him then he was to most, and it would be beneficial if Axel knew everything that had happened. He knew that, but it didn't change anything. Something just felt…wrong. He shouldn't be the one.

But maybe he should be the one and just didn't want to be.

He didn't know.

One thinned eyebrow rose at him, emerald eyes suspicious. "Is there somethin' I'm not supposed to know?" The criminal slouched, shaking his head and letting out a long sigh. No. Axel needed to know. Axel had a _right_ to know. And if he had to be the one to tell him, then so be it. It was the least he could do.

"While you were asleep, Roxas was…. He got Roxas." Zexion knotted his fingers together in his lap, watching as those emerald orbs widened at him in shock. Roxas. Roxas was gone. Roxas had saved him…and now he was gone. He was never coming back. He was another victim, another person that he would never see again. Never talk to again, never fight with again. There would be no more flirting and aggravating tones. No more rolled eyes, no more strangely endearing snoring.

And Axel didn't know if he was okay with that. He'd only known Roxas for a little while, barely any time at all, but he was still someone that he wanted to be around. They fought about every little thing, but it was all just a game. They were never really mad. They never really hated each other. It was true that they weren't romantically involved like Zexion and Demyx, but they were friends. Maybe they could have been more. Axel didn't know.

And that bothered him.

It bothered him that he didn't know what they would have been, _could _have been with just a little more time. Maybe they never would have evolved into something more then what they already were, maybe they would. But either way, he didn't want Roxas to be gone. He wanted Roxas to be here. He wanted to annoy him with some stupid comment and watch those blue eyes narrow. He wanted to watch him walk away in a huff; he wanted to hear him scream some smartass retort. He wanted so much— so many things that he would never get to have, so many things that were needlessly ripped away.

But he wasn't just going to sit here and sulk. He wasn't going to bawl his eyes out and wonder why-oh-why it had to be Roxas. He wasn't going to be that pathetic. He was _never_ going to be as pathetic as he had been before, where he had only days ago cried and struggled as he burned. That was never going to be him again; he'd make sure of that.

Calmly, he inhaled, exhaling deeply less than a second afterwards and pulling himself so that he could sit up without propping himself on his elbows, hissing lightly at the movement. Zexion just watched him with worried eyes, his bottom lip between his teeth. Once Axel had made himself comfortable, he crossed his arms, gritting his teeth as the bandages pulled and his muscles strained. He could do this. It didn't matter that his back was screaming, that every muscle was tightening in a form of protest— he was going to do at least this much. "Okay. Roxas is gone." He swallowed as the words left his throat, eyes fixed towards the criminal at his side. "Do we know anything else?"

Zexion shook his head lightly. This was business. And business was something that he could understand. "Marginally, no. Larxene found the word _fraud_ at your crime scene, but otherwise, the evidence is still the same. Demyx and I spoke with Ansem yesterday, but he began to act strangely after we mentioned finding the note near Xemnas' body." The criminal scrunched up his nose in thought, his fringe falling against his cheek as he straightened his back, those fingers of his knotting and twisting, his knuckles turning a sickening shade of white. "Before we left, he pointed us towards Kadaj. The others are at the shop now."

"But you don't think that either of them did it." The detective stated, cocking his head to the side in just the slightest way with one side of his mouth turning up at the corners. It was not secret to him that Zexion didn't believe that the brothers had committed the murders. He had been adamant from the start that there was something off about the way that everything seemed to lead to them, and the way that the criminal seemed so unconvinced in saying that the others were there just proved the point. Honestly, it would be no surprise to Axel if he were to find out that Leon had made the younger stay at the hospital just because he was so against it being either of the two.

Zexion scowled, his jaw tightening. "No. I _know _that neither of them—"

"It wasn't them."

They stopped, heads swiveling towards the white door that led into the hallway. Demyx stood there, his weight leaned against the doorframe as he fiddled with the cellphone in his hand, dirty blond hairs shielding his eyes from view. Zexion tilted his head to the side in slight confusion, standing silently with his hands held behind his back. "Was that Leon?"

The blond nodded grimly, shutting his phone with a snap and sliding it into his back pocket. He pushed his hair away from his eyes, letting out a sigh as he pulled the door closed behind him. Suddenly, he stopped, grinning as he took note of the redhead's moving and very much awake form. "Hey! You were supposed to let me know if he woke up!"

Zexion huffed at the accusation, smiling in just the slightest sort of way as Demyx came up behind him and pulled him closer, one calloused hand grabbing at his waist. "You were busy." The blond ignored him, leaning over Axel's bedside with that silly grin of his still stretched across his face.

"How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" He asked, that normal sort of concern laced with something that bordered on extreme happiness.

And Axel just stared, letting a slow, content smile tug at his lips. Demyx and Zexion— they were different. Closer. They were okay and they were happy. And at least something had come out okay while he was away.

"Actually, Dem, is there a phone in here?" He finally asked, watching as oceanic orbs widened with slight confusion. "I think my brother and I have a bit of catching up to do."

**K3YBLAD3**

"Can you tell us what happened?" Sora asked slowly, carefully, his voice low and reassuring. Kadaj just continued to rock back and forth, his pale eyes wide, blood from his brother splattered and dried at his chin. "Do you know who did this to you?" When Kadaj just remained as he was, seemingly not hearing him, he sighed, looking over his shoulder at the others and shaking his head.

They'd been at this for over two hours and the silver-haired man before him hadn't moved from his place against the wall, his back positioned in the corner. They had brought him back to the office in order to question him, but— It wasn't as if Kadaj didn't want to help them, because it seemed like he really did. The way that he would sometimes open his mouth only to clamp it shut again was testament enough to that. No. It was like Kadaj really _couldn't _help them. Whatever was wrong with him was taking over, wiping away whatever memory he may have had of the night and his brother's attacker and leaving him…broken. Hurt and broken.

Sora could barely stand to watch.

"We really need your help, Kadaj." The silverette looked at him, seemingly seeing him for the first time. The behavioral specialist smiled tentatively, switching tactics. "That's right; that's your name. Can you tell me your brother's name? Can you tell me about him?"

Strangely, the man smiled, those eyes of his wide and childlike as he leaned forward on his heels. "Brother is okay. He's coming to get me. He won't let you keep me here for long. Oh no he won't. Just you wait. You'll see."

The brunette sent a helpless look over his shoulder at the others, watching with big blue eyes as they just looked at him, just as confused as he was. It seemed like Kadaj really didn't remember what had happened. He still thought that his brother was coming to get him and take him home. And what was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to tell him anything different when he had seemed so terrified at the prospect of his brother never coming back? How was he supposed to be the person that took everything away?

Shaking his head sadly, he turned back towards the broken person before him, watching as that smile started to slip from his face, that head of his tilting in confusion at Sora's guilt-ridden look. "Kadaj…your brother got hurt earlier today. Do you remember that?"

Kadaj's expression twisted. Angrily, he pushed Sora away, hugging himself around his middle and continuing to rock, that continuous motion that kept him alive. "You're lying! Brother is fine! Brother is always fine! You just don't understand!"

The brunette moved forward, rubbing at his head but keeping his distance. "I'm not lying, Kadaj. It's really important that you remember what happened to your brother. He got hurt; he died. You need to remember."

The rocking stopped, Kadaj's pale eyes widening— _and there was blood. Blood was everywhere and that man was smiling and the word was on the wall. And the blood and brother wasn't okay. Screaming and crying and I love you and blood, blood, blood running across his skin. Brother wasn't breathing and his hands had red all over them, but he wouldn't let brother get hurt because brother never got hurt. And then there was more blood on him, on brother, and__—_ He shook his head sharply, digging his nails into his waist. "You're lying! You're just trying to take brother away from me!"

"Kadaj, no. No one's trying to take you away from your brother. No one's trying to take him away from you. We're only trying to—" The younger stopped, turning his head to the hand on his shoulder, following it up to the sad aqua eyes above him. Riku just shook his head. And Sora turned away, watching with his heart breaking as Kadaj just continued to rock and rock and rock.

He couldn't fix this.

**K3YBLAD3**

Oceanic orbs watched transfixed as Zexion stared out their hotel window, his back facing him in the same way it had been since they had gotten back. Larxene and Sora had come to watch over Axel, making them leave the hospital in order to get some rest. But he knew that they wouldn't sleep. They were both too wound up, too involved in the case going on around them. In a strange sort of way, Demyx wanted to just curl up under the sheets and let it all go, but he wouldn't. He had grown up. He wasn't the same person that just hid away or tried to fix everything. He was someone different. Someone better.

And this person didn't just run away and hide. This person was going to face things and still be okay when it was all over. He'd make sure of that.

"Axel's still Axel." He jolted slightly, blinking at the criminal's back before shaking his head and stepping closer. He didn't put his arm around his waist like he'd so daringly done at the hospital— he didn't touch him at all. Instead, he moved to stand beside him, leaning his weight against the window frame and glancing at the younger out of the corner of his eye. Zexion didn't say anything more, preferring instead to simply continue looking out into Twilight Town. Demyx didn't really mind.

For a while, they just stood in silence, watching as Twilight Town descended into darkness, the brightly colored streets diming to the point that not even the streetlights could cut through the abyss. It was a beautiful town. A perfect town. Parents all over the country probably wanted to live here. It would be great for raising a family or just getting away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Older people could come here for retirement. Students fresh out of college could start out here, make a name for themselves before moving on to something more. Looking at it, looking at the way the streets were all perfectly aligned, the way everyone just shut down after a certain time of night, no one would have ever guessed that there was still a serial killer on the loose somewhere. No one would have ever even fathomed it. It just seemed so impossible; Demyx didn't want to believe it.

But he did.

He had seen the bodies and the victims, those gone and those left behind. He had seen the crime scenes and the effect that it all had on the people. He had seen it all, watched as it tore such a beautiful place apart and exposed it for what it really was, just another town filled with people. Good people and bad people and everyone in between. Its perfection was only in its layout, its brick structures and old buildings being the only thing that lay skin deep. The people within it— they were imperfect. But that was okay. People were never meant to be perfect.

"What are you thinking about?" Demyx hummed at the question, watching as Zexion tilted his head towards him before tilting it away again, his movements clumsy and uncertain, like he was afraid to get caught looking for too long.

"What are _you_ thinking about?" The blond countered, a quirk at his lips. "You look lost."

The younger shook his head lightly, grabbing at his elbow with slender fingers as he leaned forward, his forehead grazing the window's glass panel. "The case. How all of the evidence leads to the two people that it could not be." He scrunched up his nose, biting at his lower lip. "Us. What's going to happen after this is all over. Going back to Hollow Bastion."

"There's nothing we can do." Demyx mumbled after a minute or two had passed, his tone thoughtful and even. And it was true. They were only people. Imperfect people. They couldn't do everything, and he didn't expect them to anymore. "Just…don't worry about it. Let whatever happens happen. With the case— we'll figure it out. _You_ will figure it out. And then you'll never have to go back to Hollow Bastion again and the two of us will just be us. We can be whatever you want us to be." He grabbed at the other's dangling hand, lacing their fingers together loosely. Strangely, Zexion looked relieved, going so far as to squeeze at his fingers with a light sort of force and lean closer towards him. But then he just shook his head, raising an eyebrow and leaning away, though their hands stayed interlaced.

"But what if I don't? What happens if I don't figure out who's been doing this and have to go back? What happens then?" And Demyx just smiled, pulling the other closer and grabbing at his other hand.

"Do you have to know everything?" He asked lightly, rubbing circles into the other's knuckles with his calloused thumbs. "If you have to go back, then I'll just have to get you out somehow."

Zexion just looked at him. "That's illogical."

"That's love." Demyx stated blandly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, before pecking the other on the lips chastely, the younger just staring at him with wide blue eyes. "And I love you, so logic doesn't matter anymore, right?" He kissed him again, smiling into it when Zexion tentatively kissed back, those eyes of his still just as wide. "Right. Exactly. So, if logic means nothing anymore, then it's perfectly okay for me to find some other way to get you out of jail."

"You're an idiot." The criminal smiled at him incredulously, rolling his eyes and leaning away when Demyx tried to kiss him again.

"Of course." The older pulled him back by their hands, that content smile pulling and tugging at his lips until it was all the way at his cheekbones. "But we already knew that. And no matter how many times you say it, nothing's going to change. And that's fine, because— being the idiot I am— I'd follow you to the ends of the earth with Axel and his brother at my heels if I had too. Because I love you." He kissed him again, stopping and pulling away when Zexion didn't respond.

And it was strange because the younger was just looking at him with those wide eyes. Except, they weren't like they had been before. They weren't uncertain and scared. They weren't nervous or hiding. They were alive, the gears behind them turning and pulling. "Say that again."

Blond eyebrows furrowed. "Because I love you?" He asked uncertainly. At the other's sharp shake of his head, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. "I'd follow you to the ends of the earth?" He tried again.

The younger let out a frustrated sort of huff. "No. That's not it."

"With Axel and his brother at my heels?" He tried, the utter nonsense from moments earlier rolling off his tongue apprehensively.

"That's it!" And Demyx could only watch as Zexion crushed their lips together in a rush, squeezing their hands together before pulling away completely and scrambling to grab his shoes. "It's so simple, so easy…it makes so much sense! How could we have missed it before?"

Demyx's brows furrowed even further as he watched him, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Zexion? What makes sense?"

"The case! The case makes sense!" The criminal exclaimed with adrenaline pumping in his ears, touching at his throat as he pulled his shoes on, leaving the laces untied as he stood.

"I don't understand…"

Zexion shook his head, grabbing at the other's hand and tripping over his laces as he pulled them towards the door. "I'll explain on the way!"

And it was all Demyx could do to keep up with him.

* * *

**A/N: Fail ending is fail...**

**There's really no excuse for how late this chapter is (because really, it was supposed to be up six days ago), but I'm actually sort of happy with how it came out, even with all the added bits that weren't in the plotline. And look! There's fluff in this chapter! **

**Anyway, other than that, I don't really have a lot to say about this. It was easier to write once I actually got into it. And I'll admit to liking the dream in the beginning and Axel's flashback a little too much~ little Axel is precious, I tell you. Precious. **

**Production: There's two chapters left (one regular and the epilogue). The next chapter should be shorter, so I'll still try to have them all up by the thirtieth. No promises, though. **

**Quiz Winner(s): No winners last chapter. So why did the killer choose to carve the word beneath the right eye? It's because eyes always move towards the left whenever they lie. The right side is therefore seen as the side that lies which is why the killer made sure to carve under the right eye. The left side can't lie; it always gives it away. **

**Quiz: Last chance- who do you think the killer is? There's not really a prize for getting it right, but I'd love to hear your thoughts. Also, like with the last chapter, how did you like Zexion's character in this and the interactions between him and the others? I'm trying to make it apparent that he's changing, but did it come off as a natural sort of change or unusual?**

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^_^**


	21. Ultima Weapon

**The LAST chapter guys! Wooh~!**

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~! **

**This chapter, like the last several, has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know!**

**Enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

"_Are you sure you'd like to start your book tour a month early?" _Ansem nodded at his manager's voice, making an affirmative sort of sound while continuing to stir at a cup of tea. _"As long as you're sure."_

"Of course I'm sure." The man replied, taking a sip of his drink and leaning back against one of his marble countertops. "I'm nearly finished with the next book already, which is months ahead of schedule, and it might be nice to get out of town for a bit. Besides, if I start so much earlier than expected, I should be able to spend more time at each location. It'll be good for sales, don't you think?"

His manager sighed, and he could just imagine her twirling a lock of hair around one of her thin fingers in that continuous way of hers. He knew that he was asking a lot of her with this, but he needed to leave. He couldn't just stay here and wait for the end. _"I suppose that it would be. It'll give us more time to visit the local school systems anyway. And parents do like that. Showing a little incentive when it comes to children always helps with sales." _Ansem narrowed his eyes at that, but didn't comment, preferring instead to take another sip of his quickly cooling tea. He loved children. They were minds to be captivated and informed; they were not bargaining tools for sales. _"But even so, I won't be able to start your tour for at least another week. There are just too many appointments to set up without notice. Can't you just stay at home and finish your work with the next book? It'll be easier to finish while you're still at home and it'll give me the time to begin rescheduling parts of your tour."_

"One more week?" Ansem raised a white-blond eyebrow, setting his cup aside and running his free hand through his hair desperately. "That's the soonest I can leave?" At his manager's confirmation, he let out a long, drawn sigh, letting his weight crumple against his countertop. "Then I suppose it will have to do."

"_Why are you in such a hurry anyway, Ansem?" _She asked, her tone soft and confused. And he didn't blame her for that. He had never once asked for a change in his scheduling. It was unusual for him to ever ask for any kind of change really, whether it be in a particular brand of water or his flight times. And this was such a large change— for anyone. He wanted to start his tour a month early. To her, it probably seemed to be a strange sort of request. To him, it was just something that he had to do.

He couldn't stay in Twilight Town.

He wasn't safe in Twilight Town.

But he couldn't let her know any of that. He couldn't tell her the real reason he had to leave. She knew about the murderer, of course, but he had already assured her that he was perfectly safe in his home with the doors locked and the security system on. She couldn't possibly know that he was coming for him. She couldn't possibly know that he feared for his life, that he had spent every waking second of the last few days constantly looking over his shoulder. She couldn't know, and he wouldn't let her know.

"Oh, there's really no reason. I just need a change of scenery is all." He forced a chuckle, faking a smile as well even though she couldn't see. "You know how trapped I feel whenever I'm forced to stay at home for too long. Everything just becomes so repetitive after a while."

She hummed thoughtfully. _"You've always been a bit of a free spirit, haven't you? I wonder sometimes how you ever ended up in such a boring little town."_

He smiled sadly, his aged eyes blank. "Because the people, my dear. It's always about the people." Yes, the wonderful people he had gotten hurt. The people that he loved so dearly, the ones that he always cared for, the ones that were rotting away in the city's morgue. The beautiful people that they had all lost because of his past mistakes. They were why he was here. They were why he had to leave.

She snorted in that amusing way of hers. _"I can believe that. Anyway, I have a call waiting on the other line, so I need to go. I'll try for one week. Stay safe." _And Ansem barely had enough time to repeat the sentiment before the phone clicked against his ear signaling the end of the call. He let out a long sigh much like the one from before, shaking his head to clear away his muddled thoughts and placing the phone back on its hook.

Slowly, he slipped into his office, his footsteps nearly silent against the carpeting as he made his way down the hall. The light was already on— as he had recently taken to always leaving the lights on while he was away— and he could clearly see the clutter that covered his desk. He nearly smiled at it as he came closer, running his fingertips across the littering pages, the lettering lost in a sea of words. While what he had told his manager was certainly true, it didn't change the fact that he loved being home. The walls felt like a prison at times but that didn't make him ever really want to leave it. Home was his sanctuary; home was where he could always come back to. But not anymore.

Home wasn't safe anymore.

With a jerk, he pulled his hand back, cradling it to his chest as if he'd been burned. These words, these papers, these stories— they were his life's work. They were his pride, his joy, his gift to everyone else. But they were the monsters that had caused all of this. They were the beasts, the wretched product of his fingertips that had killed so many people. They were the cause; the reason that drove them all.

And they needed to be destroyed.

So that's what he did. He destroyed them. He pushed through the papers and the pages, ripping them into pieces, scattering them across the room. He pulled down his paintings, their frames cracking against the carpet with sickening creaks. And then he tore through his bookcases, pulling every single one down and slinging it into the opposite wall, watching with shaking hands as the fell to the floor, their spines bent in places, a page or two torn. They were monsters. They were _his _monsters. And they just needed to disappear. Why couldn't he make them just disappear? Why couldn't he erase his mistakes?

Finding nothing else to tear at, Ansem sank to the floor, every ounce of his previous adrenaline gone. He pulled his knees to his chest and hid his head in his hands, white-blond hair hanging haggardly around his face. He couldn't erase this. He was in too deep, too many people had died. Too many people had been hurt and he couldn't make it go away. He couldn't just tell them— it wouldn't help him and it wouldn't help those that were already gone. But what else was he supposed to do? What else _could _he do?

"My, my, what do we have here?" Ansem jolted, standing and pushing back against the nearest wall like a frightened animal. He was here. He was already here.

"What do you want?" He bit out, his chest heaving, adrenaline reawakening beneath his skin and screaming at him to run. Run far away and never come back.

The man in the doorway smirked that twisted smirk of his, leaning back against the door's frame like it was the most natural thing in the world. "And here I thought you were a gentleman, Ansem. Where have your manners gone?" He took a calculated step forward, letting his eyes sweep across the ruined room, one eyebrow raised. "Your housekeeping skills leave much to be desired. I remember how not so long ago you always kept a clean house. Where has that gone? The same place as your manners, maybe?" He mocked, that smirk of his growing to the point that it seemed to consume him, turning at his lips and pulling them upwards.

"What do you want?" Ansem repeated, gritting his teeth to hide his fear, his eyes trying to gauge the distance to the door— his one escape route, his one way out. If he could make it to the door, he could run. He might be able to escape. He might be able to _live_.

And that man just continued to smirk as he pulled a knife from his inner coat pocket, twisting it around his fingers and pulling it forward. "What do I want?" He scoffed, taking another step forward, his boots crinkling against the tattered pages that littered the ground. "I want you to pay for what you did. That isn't much to ask, now is it? I don't think so. Not after everything that's happened, not after all these things were ripped away from me."

Ansem swallowed thickly as he took a step closer, that knife still held in his hand. The door, the door, _the door_— he had to make it to the door. "If it's me you want, then why did you hurt the others? Why did you kill them?"

He laughed, a twisted, cruel sort of thing that dug at the author's bones and knotted in his stomach. "Because I had to make you understand, of course. I had to make you pay for what you did, and just killing you would be far too quick. Yes. Killing you would have been a _mercy_ if I had done it so early. You would have never truly known what it meant. You would have never known what you had really stolen from me. Do you understand it now? Do you realize what you've caused?"

"I—"

"I don't want to hear it!" And suddenly, all that mock kindness, that fake sanity was gone, leaving behind nothing but raw anger, those lips twisting into a snarl, that knife shaking in his hand, acid dripping from his words. "You took _everything away_! You'll _never_ understand! You'll _never_ know like I know!"

He stopped, taking a deep breath with those lips still twisted, still angry and ugly, his voice shaking. "But that's fine. I'll _make_ you understand. I'll show you what darkness truly is."

And Ansem felt the strangest need to laugh like a maniac, because this was his fault too. He'd created this monster.

**K3YBLAD3**

Sora let out a long sigh, brunette spikes seeming to droop as he tightened his grip around his Styrofoam coffee cup. Normally, he wouldn't mind being left behind so much. He was an analyst. Detective work was hardly his forte, and it was painfully obvious that he wasn't made for carrying a gun and chasing after criminals. But he would be lying if he said that it didn't bother him that he'd been left behind this time around. Larxene and Leon had gone back to the hotel to catch up on some sleep. He knew that they wouldn't sleep very much, but they both needed to relax a bit and he didn't blame them for leaving. Really, he didn't. He was fine with watching over Axel with Riku. He wasn't tired enough to sleep and he had had nothing better to do at the time. And it was under Leon's order that the two of them stay to watch the redhead. So, honestly, he was perfectly fine with being left at a hospital with Riku while the rest of the team slept.

He was not okay with being left at the hospital while Riku went back to the office. He was not in the least bit okay with that. He wasn't worried about Riku really. Riku was probably better than the rest of them combined when it came to combat of any sort, and he doubted that anyone would ever have the ability to sneak up on the other male. The chances of Riku getting hurt were slim. And of course, Sora did worry about what _could _happen. It was possible that Riku could get hurt— maybe even killed—but the brunette could easily push that to the back of his mind. That wasn't what really bothered him. What really bothered him was that Riku had gone back to the office to look over case files, while Sora was left to watch over Axel.

It made sense. Really, it did. The entire idea made perfect sense. Riku would be fine on his own; Axel would not. If something were to happen, the profiler would at least have a chance of getting away, while the redhead was still unhappily confined to a hospital bed. Sora could at least put up a bit of a fight if it came down to it, increasing Axel's chances exponentially. The logic behind it was perfectly reasonable. He understood it; he realized that he was needed here.

But still, it bothered him. With Riku, he could have at least felt useful. He could have done something. And maybe he wasn't a detective. Maybe he wasn't a high-crime profiler. But he wasn't useless. He could help in some way or another, even if it came down to just saving a few minutes by looking through old files. He could do _something_.

He sighed again, sinking a little further into the uncomfortable hospital chair. He supposed that it didn't really matter now. Riku had left over an hour ago and there had been no sense in arguing with him. For right now, he was stuck at the hospital working as Axel's makeshift security. He could deal with that. It was better than going back to the hotel in any case.

"This place makes me crazy." One brown eyebrow quirked, its owner's head lifting to stare at the redhead laid out on the bed in an attempt to escape his thoughts. Sora couldn't see his eyes, but he could tell by the way the other's head lolled back against the pillow and his airy tone that he was drained and frustrated. The brunette let out a rueful sort of smile, his lips quirking crookedly. What right did he have bemoaning being stuck here? What right did he have to complain? He could be just as confined as Axel; he could be dead like Roxas.

"You're only here for a few more days so the doctors can clear you for transfer." Sora stated, that smile still at his lips. Axel huffed at him in response. "You'll at least be closer to home after that."

"That's not the point." The redhead mumbled irritably, sitting up on his elbows and glaring at him with emerald eyes. It was obvious that he wasn't angry with him, simply exasperated. "This hospital, that hospital— they're all the same. I feel like I'm trapped here. I can't leave. I can't even get up out of bed." He huffed again, pulling at his bandages lightly as if to accentuate his point. "Do you have any idea how _pathetic_ it is that I can't even get up to use the bathroom? Bedpans, Sora. Bedpans. And that's not even the worst of it!" He let himself fall back against the bed with a plop, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at the ceiling.

Sora wanted to laugh, innocent blue eyes rolling as he brought himself to the foot of the other's bed, head tilted to the side. Axel refused to look at him, keeping those green eyes of his trained on the ceiling. But that was fine. Axel didn't have to look at him. "You know you're acting like you're ten, right?" He asked lightly, crossing his arms with mock authority.

"At least I'm not moping." Touché.

The analyst let out a drawn out sort of sigh, shaking his head and crawling onto the other's bed after placing his cup on the nearby table, making sure to be mindful of the redhead's wounds. Axel twitched, but said nothing as the brunette positioned himself so that he was sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed. "This could have been a lot worse."

"Yeah…I know." The redhead looked at him over his cheek bones, eyes downcast. He knew that things could have been a lot worse for him. He knew that, and he was thankful on some level that things truly hadn't been as bad as they could have been. He could be dead or burnt to the point of losing everything. Axel would at least be able to walk again, and he had the ability to take that hike with his brother once he healed. It was just the matter of healing that bothered him.

He hated the very idea of being confined. The idea of being dependent and _weak_.

That person that he was only days ago, that person that could only sit there and let the fire consume him— he didn't want to ever be that person again. He would make sure that he was _never _again that person. But what was he supposed to do now? What was he supposed to do now that he was in the same situation, bound and confined? He didn't know, and he doubted that anyone could answer that question for him.

Tapping his fingers against his forearms with some difficulty, he pushed his eyes back towards the ceiling, scowling at the blisteringly white tiles like they were keeping the answer just out of reach. After a moment or two, he exhaled, letting the warm air soundlessly escape through his nose. Just sitting here was stupid. He wanted to _act_. He wanted to put that man behind bars for what he did to Roxas and all the others, to _him._ And it didn't help that these wants of his were unobtainable. He was confined to a hospital. He could barely move, let alone track that man down and arrest him.

And it was a terrible feeling knowing that he couldn't do anything. Knowing that he had to rely on everyone else for everything.

The redhead jerked against his pillow at the sudden noise drumming against his ears, one slim eyebrow raising as the brunette fumbled for a moment, one lightly tanned hand pushing into his pocket and pulling out a sleek, black, company-issued cellphone. Interested, Axel pulled himself up, wincing slightly at the pain in his back but ignoring it in favor of watching the younger's face contort with one look at the name displayed across his phone's screen. "Demyx?" His nose crinkled ever so slightly, more out of confusion than anything else. "Why would he being calling?"

"Answer it." Emerald eyes narrowed, watching closely as Sora did as he was told, flipping the phone open and holding it next to his ear.

"Hel—" The word died in the brunette's throat, causing Axel to scowl as blue eyes began to widen. Whoever was on the other side of that phone line was rushing, the few words that the redhead could make out stringing together incoherently. And Sora's eyes just kept widening, his free hand beginning to tremble and knot around the bed sheets. "Wait, wait! I don't understand!" He spoke in a rush as well, words barely making it out before he was shocked into silence. His brows furrowed, listening intently.

Suddenly, the phone was snapped closed, Sora jumping from the bed and stumbling against the hospital tile as he re-pocketed his phone and sprinted towards the door. "I'll be back as soon as I can!"

And Axel could just watch as he left, the slamming of the door to his room echoing against his skull as he sunk back against his pillow.

**K3YBLAD3**

Demyx scowled into the darkness that surrounded the house, oceanic orbs trying to take in as many details as he could before it was too late. The lights were on in every room it seemed, a dull yellow peeking through curtains on both floors, the lawn illuminated by them all, the shadows revealed. It all looked normal enough. Maybe a bit too bright for this time of night, but still just as normal as it had days before when they'd come to speak with the author for the last time. But something was wrong. He could tell that something was wrong. The light in that building lied, and he was determined to figure out why.

Crouching beside him against the trees, Zexion fidgeted, his fingers knotted at impossible angles against his knees, those boney knuckles of his white and bloodless. He held his bottom lip in between two rows of teeth, a faint hint of blood running down his chin. Waiting. Those eyes of his just waiting for the right moment. The right moment to catch this man and gain his freedom.

The blond shook his head sharply, clearing it in just the slightest way before turning his gaze back towards the house. Ansem was in there. He was probably getting ready for bed, maybe already asleep. He probably had no idea that a murderer would be coming to his house tonight; he probably had no idea that he was the endgame.

But maybe he did. Maybe he did know that he was the one that he was after. Maybe he had known all along. The detective scrunched up his nose in disgust at the thought. Knowing… He hoped that Ansem didn't know. Otherwise, he could have stopped all of this so long ago. All those people wouldn't have had to die. If Ansem didn't know, then this was okay. Saving him from his fate was okay. But if he did— if he did know but let it all happen anyway— Demyx didn't know. He didn't know what to do if that was the case.

He wanted to help people. He would probably _always _want to help people. But if Ansem had known all along and had just been lying, _playing _with them since the very beginning, he didn't know if he truly wanted to help him. His life wouldn't bring back those that were lost. It wouldn't fix things or make them any easier to bear. He knew that; he understood that. But that didn't change the fact that it would be what he deserved if he'd done all of this on purpose, if he'd just let it drag on needlessly as some sort of morbid game.

He shook his head again, eyes squeezing shut at the thought. No. _No_. That was wrong. Those bodies, those people— no one deserved that. No one deserved to die like that no matter what they had or had not done. No matter what they did or did not know. What was wrong with him? Why would he even _think _that? He had seen the bodies— the mangled pieces, the lifeless eyes, that sweet little girl that never even had a chance— and he had seen the people left behind. He'd seen them all. Every last one of them even worse off than the last. No one deserved what happened to them. No one deserved to have those words etched into them. And no one truly deserved to die.

He believed that with everything he had, and it wasn't going to change now. He wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't be the person that just let things happen. He would be who he was until the very end. And he would save someone. Even if that person didn't really deserve to be saved, he would save them because that was who he was.

And if he just kept believing that, then maybe it would never change.

"They're taking too long."

Oceanic orbs opened, spots dancing before them as they returned to the closed door. He could see Zexion in his peripheral vision, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight, deep blue eyes visible and narrowed. With little hesitation, Demyx grabbed his hand without taking his eyes away, smoothing his fingers across the other's knotted digits, straightening them and lacing them together with his own so that they were loosely holding hands.

"They'll be here as soon as they can." He assured him quietly, his voice nearly a whisper against the wind. "It shouldn't be much longer." The younger's fingers tightened against his hand, but the criminal didn't bother to reply. Demyx wasn't surprised.

The two of them had been waiting for the others for nearly an hour, Demyx's car hidden amongst the trees while they stood at the edge of the woods surrounding the house. And it was so very wrong because they were just standing there, waiting, and there hadn't been a sound. Not one sound had come out of that house. He didn't know what he had been expected— everything, nothing, something— but he knew that this was not natural. There was always something. A bird landing on the roof, porch swings swaying with the wind, wood creaking as the house settled, the sound of a television from inside— there was always something that made it alive. But this, this had nothing.

It was just light and dark, the door and the trees.

It was too quiet, and it was making him anxious, jittery with no apparent reason. And the quiet had him wanting to rush, wanting to make his way inside before it was time. They needed to wait for backup before they made their way inside. It was too risky going in alone, especially since Demyx was so inexperienced with handguns and Zexion didn't even have one. Backup would fix that problem. If all went well, the two of them wouldn't even have to go in.

But Demyx didn't really want that because he wanted to save someone. He wanted to be the one that did it. He wanted to catch this bastard himself. He wanted to keep his promise. And he wasn't a child anymore— he could handle this. He _would _handle this no matter what happened.

And waiting outside like this just seemed so wrong because there was someone in that house that could be in danger, and it was so quiet outside. So very, very _dead_. So very, very wrong. But they weren't supposed to go inside. They could get hurt; they could get killed. Going in there could mean the end of them, but still, waiting was just wasting time. The killer could already be there. He could have killed him already, Ansem's body smashed against the walls, blood pooling and draining across his many pages of words. They could be too late. The killer could already be getting away, running around the back and disappearing into the woods while they just waited, the author's body bleeding out in the study. Maybe they would never catch him. Maybe he would get away with it all. All those bodies laid out in the morgue, nothing but pale, dead faces with lifeless eyes that had nothing left. They would nev—

A gut-wrenching scream pierced through the silence.

He ran.

With the worn soles of his shoes struggling to grip the ground beneath him, he ran, the criminal struggling to stay at his heels as he forced his way up the porch's wooded stairs and swung open the door. He didn't bother to stop until he was already halfway down the lit hallway, his breath ragged, his eyes wild as he searched. There was nothing. No sound, no movement. It was exactly as it had been only days before. Where had it come from? That scream had come from somewhere. He knew it had. But where?

A scuffle sounded from down the hall— a minute little sound that he just barely managed to catch— and he was off again, those soles of his sliding as he forced open the study door. And he stopped again, his oceanic eyes wide, his lips slightly parted.

Blood rushed, pooled against the carpet, Ansem's fragile fingers shaking violently as they attempted to stop the bleeding at his throat. Bits and pieces of the ruby red liquid gathered at his fingertips and pushed through, running down his pale neck and staining his clothes. His would-be killer crouched over him, his knife pressed against his own chin, nasty eyes watching the blond in the doorway with an amused sort of interest.

_Xehanort_.

"My, my, my." The man laughed, fluidly bringing himself to his full height, that knife of his still touching at his chin, its handle covered in what Demyx wished was dye. "Have you come to save him?" He asked, still so very amused, mocking, laughing at him like everyone else did. The detective didn't bother to say anything, he just clamped his mouth shut, his fingers jittering against his sides. "Well, would you look at that, Ansem? Someone came to save you. Splendid, isn't it?" His laughter died off as he gave the author a kick to the side, smirking at the moan of pain that came from his defenseless victim. "But you don't deserve to be saved, do you?" When Ansem didn't reply, be put his boot against his bloodless hands, slowly lowering his weight, that smirk of his widening to impossible lengths as the blood began to pool all the faster, droplets of it forcing their way up through Ansem's mouth and splattering against his chin.

He was going to die. He was going to die. _He was going to die_. And Demyx could not let that happen. He could not _watch _this person leave too. He would not watch this person, listen to his gurgles as he died. He would not let Ansem become his parents. He would not be the one that had to see what was left once he was done. He wouldn't. Not this time. He wouldn't be powerless this time.

Shaking, breaths quickened against his rib cage, he felt for his gun, grabbing at it with nervous fingers and pushing it in front of him like they taught him in training. Xehanort stopped, removing his bloodied boot and tilting his head at him, eyes narrowing as they watched the gun move up and down, Demyx's grip unsteady as he felt for the trigger.

And strangely, the man just laughed, pushing his weight against his hip. "You don't want to shoot me." He said as the silence began to pass. "You don't want to kill me." His head tilted a bit more, light hairs falling in front of his face and hanging down haggardly. "Do you even know? If you knew what he did, you wouldn't really blame me. I'm sure you wouldn't. I can see it in your eyes." He laughed again, a little more humorless, a little less mocking. "You think he deserves to die, don't you? You think I'm right."

"Shut up!" His hands shook, his voice following along. No. No. No one deserved to die. No one deserved to die. He wouldn't _let _anyone die. It wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't _going _to happen. And what Ansem had done had been so wrong and he must have known and maybe he did deserve something. But he wasn't supposed to die. He didn't need to die. There was a better way. There was always a better way. "That's not what I think! I think you're a monster!"

Xehanort laughed again, the chuckles coming out of him with great gasps, that knife of his twisting in his grasp as he struggled to hold his middle. "Really, now? I'm the monster?" He rolled his eyes as soon as that terrible, despicable _laughter _passed. "And why is that? Why am I a monster?" He took a few steps closer so that he was directly between Demyx and Ansem, a smile gracing his lips as the blond didn't make a move, his body just continuing to shake. "Is it because I killed those people?" The detective took a sharp breath. Xehanort just smiled all the wider. "Do you want to know what it felt like? Do you want to know what I thought about as the light left their eyes? As I watched them die? I'll tell you, it was glorious." He brought himself closer as he spoke, the last bit spoken against the younger's ear, the blond shuddering, oceanic eyes frantic as they followed the murderer's movements.

"Oh, don't tell me you're disgusted by that." He pivoted around him, Demyx following him jerkily, that gun of his held in front of him. "You must really love it. Oh, yes. You must love it very much. Monsters like me— you're not disgusted at all."

The blond's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together. "You're wrong."

"Am I now?" He smirked, stepping closer and then further away again as Demyx's grip around the gun clenched, his finger locked against the trigger. "Then what about that other little monster? That little boy-toy you keep with you all the time." He let out anther merciless breath as the blond's breath hitched. "Hit a nerve, have I? Where is he, by the way? I know he came with you— oh, I have no doubt about that. Now, where is he hiding?"

"Leave him out of this."

The doctor let out another laugh, eyes narrowing before he lunged forward, grabbing at the blond's arm and pulling him against his chest, his knife against the lightly tanned throat, the gun shooting against the wall uselessly before he grabbed that too, sliding it towards the wall's opposite side.

And all Demyx could do was slump against him, oceanic orbs as wide as saucers as he just watched Ansem's crumpled body bleed and bleed and _bleed_. He was dying and someone needed to help him and there was a knife against his throat. And he'd failed. He'd been played just like the idiot he was. It was all about talking and getting them closer, hitting his nerves and rendering him useless. What was he doing? Why was he here?

No one deserved this. No one ever deserved this.

"If I were you, I'd get that little monster of yours in here." He breathed against the shell of his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, a shiver race down his spine. Defiantly, he kept his mouth shut, squeezing those eyes of his closed as the knife pushing against his throat with a bit more force, a thin red line beginning to drip, the streams of it running down his neck and staining his collar. And he was going to die. He knew he was going to die because he didn't know where Zexion had gone once they'd entered the house and he would not— he _could not_ call him. He'd rather die than pull Zexion into this. It wasn't his job. He had no real obligation to be here. He didn't need to die for this.

Suddenly, the pressure against his neck disappeared, the man behind him laughing that terrible laughter, smirking that twisted smirk against his dirty blond hair. "It's nice to see you've made it." And Demyx could hear light footsteps against the carpet.

Oceanic eyes shot open, Zexion standing less than ten feet away, his deep blue eyes taking in the scene coolly. To an outsider, he would have looked indifferent to the blood staining the carpet in the corner, the detective held with a knife to his throat. But to Demyx— he could see. He could see the way the criminal's hands knotted against his sides, the way his eyes shifted between the blond and the gun, as if trying to gauge his chances of getting to the weapon before Demyx was already dead. From the way his lips thinned almost imperceptibly, Demyx could guess that they weren't very high.

"Why are you doing this?" Pale arms crossed, and the blond could feel the murderer tense against his back, his knife touching at his skin.

"Excuse me?" Xehanort ground out, his voice steeled against his skin.

Zexion shifted his weight to the side, eyes narrowing. "I asked why you were doing this." He reiterated, voice low.

The murderer stood up a little straighter, shoulder's pulling against his skin as he scowled. "Oh, I'm sure you know exactly why." He spat, that knife of his pressing down a little harder, Demyx's breath quickening just a little more. "That man took _everything _away. _Everything_."

The youngest shot the author a quick glance, his body barely even twitching now— _probably too far gone to ever come back—_ and then brought his eyes back, shrugged nonchalantly. "So he stole from you. Big deal."

"Why you—!" Xehanort shook his head sharply, pushing the blond away just the barest amount, his nasty eyes zeroing in on the criminal angrily. "Do you even understand what it feels like? Do you even realize what he _took _from me?" He waved the knife wildly, slashing it through the air carelessly.

The criminal shrugged again, and Demyx could see the way his knuckles were turning white from nervously grabbing his forearms. "Money. Fame. Respect."

"Exactly! And he took it away!" He screamed, fists clenching, that knife waving, wild with movement. "It was mine. _Mine_. My idea, my story! I was the one who came up with it!"

"You trusted him and he betrayed you, is that it?" Zexion laughed, his voice mocking, the tone so close to that of Xehanort's. "Is that it?" He laughed even harder, grabbing at his sides much like the other had done, rolling his eyes derisively. "You're not special." He smiled, little white teeth showing through. "And once this is all over, you'll still be _nothing_."

The killer let out a barbaric growl, flinging the blond to the side as he rushed forward, his knife thrust frontward as he moved towards the motionless other. And even as Demyx saw the gush of red out of the corner of his eye, heard the sickening crunch of bodies hitting the floor, he knew what he had to do.

The sound of a gunshot echoed against the walls.

And then there was nothing but red.

**K3YBLAD3**

When the rest of the team arrived an hour later, they were too late. All they could do was call the ambulance and wait, watching as a shaking Demyx cradled a bloodied criminal to his chest, whispering soothing nonsense against his ear.

**K3YBLAD3**

_The Ansem Report, Page 4_

_After killing twenty victims (including one cat) and wounding two others, the suspect was finally taken down by Demyx Wendell at 11:32 p.m. in the home of Ansem Wise by a single gunshot wound to the head. While unavailable for questioning, the case detectives were able to accurately conclude his motive for the killings._

_Each victim (with the exception of one Zexion Schewyer) was killed or wounded in response to the popular book series __**'Kingdom Hearts'**__ written by Ansem Wise. Each keyblade within the book was used as a guideline for the characteristics of the victim. After a short investigation, it has been concluded that Xehanort Zeel was the original author of the first book found within the __**'Kingdom Hearts'**__ Series. His motive has thus been concluded as revenge against Mr. Wise for stealing his book. The motive for each individual victim may never be fully known. _

_Xehanort Zeel's affects, along with those of Ansem Wise, have been prepared for sale by the Twilight Town Police Force. All funds resulting from the sales will be equally distributed amongst the families of the victims. A memorial has also been commissioned by the Twilight Town Council and will begin construction within the year with a portion of the town's beautification funding._

_All detectives assigned to the case have been granted early retirement if they so wish. _

_Department Head,_

_Saix Bianchi_

**K3YBLAD3**

Chapped lips let out a content sort of sigh as their owner ran his hand through his dirty blond hair, grimacing a bit at the feel of the greasy strands. He hadn't had the ability to wash it for a while, all of his clothes stuffed into a suitcase, all of his time spent in a hospital. But he was okay with that. He'd been worse places.

Humming a lively tune, he grabbed the filled cups from the miniature kitchenette, spinning on his heel and making his way back towards the bed positioned in one of the room's corners, the small form cuddled against the pillows, a thick tome positioned in his lap. And he couldn't help but smile as he took the seat at the bed's side. Quietly, he took a sip of his coffee, handing the younger his cup of water when he glanced at him between pages. The wounded didn't bother to say anything as he took the cup, holding it lovingly between his shaking palms before gingerly swallowing a bit, giving it back to the older once he was done.

Demyx smiled as he took the thing, holding it next to his own and propping his chin against the bed's side, his eyes taking in the bandages that graced the other's otherwise bare hip bones beneath the sheet. By his head, barely hidden by the powder blue hospital gown, he knew there were more bandages, covering the bruised and torn skin along the other's rib cage. And there were more. More bandages gracing the underside of one arm, more covering the side of his neck, another one plastered on his cheekbone. But that was okay. Bandages were okay. He'd gotten the wounds that those bandages so painstakingly covered while saving him, protecting _him_. And that meant everything in the world.

"Hey." Demyx muttered, his grip tightening around the cups in his hands, his chin balanced against the bed. The younger flipped a page in his book, but he knew that he was listening. "I love you."

And Zexion just smiled.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, raise of hands, how many people thought I killed Zexion? Yeah. That's what I thought. **

**Anyway, I'm actually strangely happy with this. It took a lot longer to write than it probably should have (and I literally wrote out the last half of this in less than four hours) because the first parts of it...not enjoyable for me at all really. There just seemed to be something wrong. But, honestly, I like the finished product, even though I'm not entirely happy with the whole thing (like the word "hey" there at the end. You have no idea how long I fought with that word). **

**I tried to get all the pieces of the case out that I could so that it would all come together. In short, Xehanort trusted Ansem with his book idea, but Ansem then betrayed his trust and stole it from him. In betraying that trust, Xehanort saw him as a liar that needed to "pay" for what he did, Ansem being the ultimate prize for himself as his revenge (thus the chapter name). When Demyx fleetingly said "...with Axel and his brother at my heels," Zexion was reminded of the letter "B" which could stand for "brother". Xemnas has labeled his brother, Xehanort, as the killer chapters before. **

**Also, when Zexion says in this chapter that Xehanort's not special, he's referring to himself as well because Lexaeus was someone who he trusted that turned on him.**

**If you have any more questions about anything or just want something cleared up, let me know and I'll get back to you as soon as I can! **

**Production: Only the epilogue left at this point. I'm planning on it basically just being a bunch of snippets from after the case, most likely stretching out for a few years. (Fluff. Monsterous amounts of fluff most likely). It shouldn't take very long at all, since it will probably be shorter, so plan on it being up by sometime on or before the 31st. **

**Quiz Winner(s): Reading wanderer (I read your review and I was like "They know!"), me malum, dancingsilverwolf, and sakuraXdrops. I seriously shouldn't have given out so many clues. Or something... **

**Quiz: None since the last bit really isn't related to the rest of this at all. But~ tell me, what's been your favorite part of this story? I'm trying to work on certain aspects of stories, so it'd be nice to get some feedback on what people like the most, whether it be a particular scene or a specific character. Anything really. **

**A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters. ^_^**


	22. Sweet Memories

**And the epilogue is here~ It's not as fluffy as I had originally intended it to be, but I like how it came out and I hope you do too! **

**Also, this is a collection of snippets from after the case. They run chronologically, but the time in between them ranges from a few days to a little over a year. **

**Full Summary: _Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart? _**

**Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence. **

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.**

**Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! I love you~! **

**This epilogue has not been beta-ed. If you happen to find anything extremely grammatically wrong, please let me know!**

**Enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

Pale fingers knotted nervously in their owner's lap, their knuckles a bloodless white. The clock on the wall just continued to tick, echoing against the wooden furniture, drumming against his ears. He chanced a glance at it, sighing when it was only two minutes past the time it was the last time he had looked. He was late. The judge was late.

And he was just so tired of waiting for this moment— so tired of looking over his shoulder and fearing the possibility of being sent back. It wasn't all bad, and he wasn't going to lie and say that it was. After his wounds had healed, he'd been sent to live with Demyx. Life with him was great. Really, honestly, it was. Living with him was nothing like it had been when he was still with his parents and it was nothing like prison. It was different. So very different. Homely, even. And he loved it even though the apartment was crowded with Demyx's things and the city below it was filled with crime.

But he still felt so trapped. Demyx could leave and do as he pleased. He didn't have to stay in that apartment day in and day out. He was the one that did the grocery shopping. He was the one that went out and bought all of Zexion's clothes. He was even the one that picked up dinner on occasion. And Zexion couldn't stand that. He couldn't stand not doing anything. Not being _able _to do anything. Sure, he did all the house work, and he did help Demyx with various things whenever he could. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same as being able to do something for himself. It wasn't the same as moving on.

And sometimes, he'd catch himself. He'd catch himself standing at the living room window and watching the world go by without him.

Demyx had caught him one time. He hadn't known how long he had been standing there. All he remembered was starting dinner a few hours before the blond was supposed to be home. When he had finally remembered where he was, dinner had been something that vaguely resembled tar. He'd been making chicken and dumplings.

After that little incident, he had tried to stay away from the windows. But that only made it worse. Demyx's apartment— _their _apartment— had become a prison. A prison with plush carpeting and comfortable furniture, but still a prison nonetheless. It felt like nothing had really changed. It felt like he was still paying for all the things he'd done wrong. And he couldn't keep doing that. He couldn't keep trying to fix past mistakes because the past can't be fixed. It can't be rewritten, and he can't go back. If it could, if he _could_ go back—

The door opened behind him, his entire body swiveling to watch the mahogany wood swing on its hinges. A short man with white hair and a red-buttoned nose stepped through the door, his black robes billowing around him. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting long." He smiled, settling behind his desk and opening a yellow folder with _Zexion Schewyer _printed across its side. "Now, let's get this record of yours annulled, shall we?"

**K3YBLAD3**

Axel scowled, gritting his teeth together in concentration, his grip tightening around the two metal poles that were keeping him in place. He could do this. He could do this. He _would _do this. It didn't matter that it hurt. It didn't matter that the newly healed skin on his legs was stretching a bit too far. And it _certainly _didn't matter that his back felt like it was on fire. No. None of it mattered right now.

Because he could do this.

It was so simple, so easy. He used to do this all the time. He used to not even think about it. It didn't matter that he hadn't been able to since the accident. Right here, right now, he could do this. He would do this. He wasn't weak. He wasn't dependent. And he was _not _going to let that bastard win. It just wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't _let _it happen.

He pushed one foot forward, setting it on the ground gingerly. He grit his teeth together a little harder at the nerve-wracking pain that traveled up his spine, his lungs making his chest heave up and down as he tried to fight down the utterly humiliating sob that was on its way. No. He was not going to cry. He was _not _going to cry.

Cautiously, he pushed the other foot forward to join the first, his hands sliding along the metal bars that were keeping him upright, his arms shaking from the pressure. Okay. That was one. He could do this. He could do this. Almost there.

He pushed at his feet again, ignoring the way his muscles tensed, the way his back screamed at him to _stop, just stop_. His hands followed along, shaking and shattering as his knuckles went bloodless, as blood began to show through the bandages that still covered his tattered and blackened forearms. He didn't care. It didn't matter.

He was winning.

Slowly, tentatively, he kept moving forward, watching his feet with his red hair in his eyes as sweat began to bead across his forehead. With every move, with every small step, he watched the line across the tiles disappear a little more, the yellow light of it disappearing, no long taunting him. No longer laughing at him like it had for days.

When his heel finally hit the end of it, he let himself sink to the floor, his knees shaking, his muscles burning. He knew he wouldn't be able to get up on his own, and the nurse's call button was all the way across the room, but that was fine. Because he was happy. So _fucking _happy.

He'd won.

**K3YBLAD3**

Brown brows furrowed at the scene before them. The car was flipped over in the ditch, bodies all around it in various states of undress. Four girls were tied together in the trunk, their hair mingling in bloody masses, the stench wafting into his nostrils and threatening his gag reflex. It was obvious that they were dead, some of their bones crushed and bent at odd angles, gashes across their faces that definitely hadn't happened because of the crash. In the backseat of the car, there were three more. So young and so obviously dead.

He shook his head, taking a step closer and checking the notes in his hands. There were nine girls missing and this was only seven of them. He let out a long sigh, running his hand through his hair and trying not to think of all the parents he was going to have to inform, trying not to think of all the parents that just lost their little girls. It was easier if he didn't think about it. If he just concentrated on his job and did what he had to do, he didn't have to think about all the bodies, all the people he couldn't get to in time. It kept him going; it kept him alive.

Pulling a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipping them on, he brought himself to the front of the car, narrowing his eyes at the bloodstain on the steering wheel. Whoever had been driving was wounded now. That would make it easier to find them. If it was bad enough, they'd have to go to the hospital. All he had to do was send word through the police department and it shouldn't take too long to find the others. It'd be easy. If they didn't have to go to the hospital… he doubted that they'd ever find those other girls.

Leon shook his head at that thought. No. He had to think that they'd find them. There was no sense in giving up on it now. It wasn't over yet.

"_Mmhhh._"

He stopped, his shoulder's tense. He'd heard that. Leon knew that he had heard that. Quickly, precisely, he scanned his eyes over the inside of the car. The girl on the left side of the back seat— the side that had gotten hit the hardest in the crash— there was no chance that she was still alive, sticky dried blood coating the side of her face, her chest still and even. The one next to her was the same, bloody and gone. Never coming back. But the one on the right— he could just barely see it.

The way her chest rose, shallow and uneven, barely moving at all. And he knew this girl. She was the last one to disappear. A pretty little girl with little brown pigtails and big green eyes. Olette Davis, twelve years old, missing since school let out on Friday evening.

And she was alive.

Before he could even think, he was screaming for the medic, his body grabbing at her door and pulling it open. He didn't realize what he was doing. He didn't even notice it until he was already loaded into the back of the ambulance, that little girl's hand held so tightly between two of his own.

Six were dead. Two were missing. One was alive. Okay.

He could deal with that.

**K3YBLAD3**

If Demyx were being honestly with himself, he'd realize that he didn't even know why they were fighting anymore. As it was, he was angry and frustrated and everything else. And this time, this time, he wouldn't be the one that apologized.

For whatever it was.

It might have started with picking a new place to live, because he wanted somewhere nice and pretty near the ocean and Zexion wanted somewhere with lots of jobs where they could buy a little house for just the two of them. Then again, maybe it started when Demyx said he wanted kids, wanted the two of them to have their own little family, and Zexion automatically said no. That might have been it, when he refused to even think about the possibility.

And Demyx might have been okay if he had at least _thought _about it a little bit before saying no. But he hadn't, and it wasn't like he ever asked for much from the other. Zexion wasn't one to hand out _'I love you's' _or silly little terms of endearment. He wasn't one to cuddle on the sofa; he wasn't even one to really touch at all. And maybe Demyx was being selfish. Maybe he was asking for a little too much. But he _wanted _a family. It didn't have to be a big family. He and Zexion didn't have to get married and buy a little house with a picket fence and have a dozen kids with two dogs and who knows what else.

But still. A kid would be nice. They could adopt someone that needed them. Someone like him when he was little. He'd lost his parents, and he really just wanted to give something back. Some kid out there needed help, and they could give it. He knew they could.

He heard a huff from the doorway, his blond head jolting up from the loveseat to watch as Zexion stomped over to him, sitting down with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked tired. Really, really tired. And maybe Demyx was being selfish. Maybe he was being so selfish about this entire thing because Zexion still had so many little problems that needed to be worked out and springing this on him was probably so wrong of him. He sighed, deflating a bit as he gave up, pulling the younger closer so that he was half leaning against his chest. "I—"

"What if I can't do it?" Demyx clamped his mouth closed, tilting his head to the side as Zexion's arms uncrossed and his hands moved to knot in his lap in that constant habit of his. "What if," he stopped, swallowing thickly, "what if I end up like my parents? What if I end up just like them?"

And maybe he really was being selfish for having not even thought about that. His parents— they were good people, wonderful people. Zexion's parents had been the opposite. They hadn't cared about him at all. It would be only natural for him to fear the possibility that he might end up like them. But…Demyx wanted a family. He _needed _a family.

"You wouldn't." He grabbed at the other's hands with his own, straightening the knuckles and lacing their fingers together gently. Zexion's brows knitted, but he said nothing, preferring instead to watch as the blond's thumbs began to rub circles against the back of his palms. "You'd make a great parent. You'd always pay attention to everything, make snacks and do all those little things that I'd completely forget about. You'd be perfect. _We'd _be perfect."

The younger bit at his lower lip, still just watching their hands. "But what would we tell them? I killed people, Demyx. That's not going to go away." And Demyx just sighed, swooping in to kiss the other's cheek.

"We'd deal with that whenever it comes." Pale lips sighed, their owner leaning in a little closer so that his head was against Demyx's chest, his deep blue eyes exposed and downcast.

"Could we just…not right now? Please?" His voice quivered, those slim fingers tightening their grip against his own. "Maybe someday just not…right now…"

And Demyx smiled, tightening his own fingers against his and settling against the loveseat, just enjoying this rare moment of cuddling. It didn't have to be now.

They had all the time in the world.

**K3YBLAD3**

"What do ya want to know?" The man was cocky— _too _cocky— and Riku couldn't stand it. He wanted to beat him, flip the steel table in front him, lunge across it, and throttle him. He wanted to make him choke on those nasty words of his. He wanted to make him _hurt _like he had as a child.

And he would. Just not like that. No. He wouldn't resort to that. He was _better _than that.

"Whatever you can tell me." His strangely colored eyes narrowed, watching as Pete Black laughed, spittle falling onto the table even as he leaned back, his oversized stomach jiggling and touching at the table's edge.

"Ya want to know, do ya, boy?" He laughed and laughed and laughed. "Alright, alright. I watched her, ya see. For days and days and days I watched her. Pretty little thing she was, showin' off that silver hair of hers and those nice legs. Pretty lil' bitch." And he just kept laughing, Riku's hands clenching beneath the table. He wanted to leave. He wanted to find the nearest empty room and puke his guts out because this was just so wrong and he didn't have to know what had happened.

But he wouldn't do that. He'd finally caught this son of a bitch, and he _needed _to know.

"It wa'n't hard. Not hard at all. She always came the same way, and I jus grabbed her, right 'round the middle. Easy, peasy. But then she started screamin', and it was her own fault. Had to make 'er shut up. I'd only planned to rough 'er up a bit. Jus enough so that she'd always remember me. But, nah. She just wouldn't shut up, and I had to make her shut up. So I hit 'er, like this." He slammed his hands against the table, laughing as Riku's eyes steeled just a bit more, his hands still hidden in his lap beneath the table.

"But she still kep' on, screamin' and screamin' with that bloody voice of hers. So I jus kept on hittin' her, over 'n over again. By the time the lil' bitch had stopped, there wa'n't much left. So I jus hit 'er again, and she stopped breathin'." He laughed, smiling, leaning back with his arms behind his head like he hadn't done anything wrong. "Can ya believe that? All that watchin' and the lil' bitch wa'n't worth it at all. Just a pain in the neck."

Riku stood abruptly, his chair sliding back against the concrete floor, screeching and grating against their ears. Pete stopped laughing, watching him a little wearily. Silently, eyes never once leaving the man before him, the profiler turned off the room's recorder, listening for the click that echoed in the silence. There wasn't anyone watching them. He knew that. He'd made damn sure of that. He took a deep breath and smiled.

And then he hit him, raising his fist and slamming it against that man's jaw with a sickening crunch.

"That's for my mother."

**K3YBLAD3**

She didn't know why she bothered to come to these stupid things. They were all the same. The same seminars traveling across the country, asking for her to come and speak about all the people she'd cut up over the years. The how and why of it all bustling against her head with questions from underage students that didn't know what they hell they were talking about. It was a pain, and why was she here again?

Whatever. It didn't really matter. She was getting paid for this and it was mostly a vacation anyway. All she had to do was speak for a couple of hours and relax. Though, she wasn't entirely sure what kind of relaxation there was around here. Twilight Town was even more boring than it had been when she'd come her for the Xehanort case, and it wasn't exactly booming back then.

Oh, what did it matter? She could just walk around town. Maybe even go to the park. Even sleepy little towns like this had chess matches, didn't they? Maybe she could play someone. She hadn't had a good run in a long time. And maybe she could even get them to bet money on the match. They wouldn't even know what hit them.

Her mind made up, Larxene smiled, tucking her notes into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She kicked off from the wall and started off, electric eyes straying to the side as she passed by the school yard on her way. And she stopped, right there on the sidewalk as the students got out, the bell ringing long and loud as the students rushed past the door.

She didn't particularly like kids, and she didn't know what she was expecting to see by standing there, but she was expecting _something _and she was going to stand there and wait until she saw it. Whatever it was. Kids rushed past her, some younger than others, some she vaguely recognized, all of them looking at her a little strangely but too scared to say anything. None of them meant much to her. She didn't care about them, and they weren't what she was waiting for. After five minutes of just standing there, her bag slung over her shoulder, she sighed, preparing to keep walking.

But then she saw her.

She was undeniably older than she'd been the last time she'd seen her, taller and maybe a little fuller, a little rounder around her hips. She was dressed all in white like she had been the last time as well, but she was wearing a skirt with a form fitting blouse that clung to her lean arms instead of a plain dress. She looked happy sitting on the steps to the school with a sketchbook thrown across her lap. And Larxene just shook her head at the sight, a ghost of a smile settling on her lips as she turned away and set off again.

Namine smiled back at her even though she couldn't see.

**K3YBLAD3**

Click, lock, whirl, knot. Click, lock, whirl, knot. Click, lock, whirl, _knot_. He shuddered, squeezing his hands together in his lap. He watched as the door hidden behind the glass opened, a bulky man with auburn hair and light blue eyes clambering through, his head held high despite the prisoner's garb that adorned his frame, hanging off what was left of his once impeccable muscles.

_Lexaeus_.

Zexion looked away, eyes glazing as he stared at the grey stone wall. There was nothing in the room besides the little table in front of him that was separated from the prisoner's cage on the other side, a glass panel looking through, a phone resting on its hook. He had told Demyx that he needed to come here, needed to talk, but now he wasn't so sure. He hadn't seen Lexaeus in years, and he'd been the one that had turned him in. He'd ruined everything for him.

But then, he'd ruined everything for him too. He was the one that pulled him in as a child. He was the one that told him to kill people. He was the one that pulled him into the dark. But…even so, after everything, Lexaeus was the only one that ever really even pretended to care. He was the one that paid attention and took him places. He was the one that played games with him and made him feel like everything was okay. He was kind of like the dad he'd never had. And isn't it only natural to love your parents?

He didn't really know.

Deep blue pools swiveled, watching as Lexaeus' mouth twitched as he maneuvered himself into the seat across from him, the picture of him foggy and a little unclear, the glass between them spotted and smudged. Zexion opened his mouth as if to say something, but then let it close, shaking his head and pulling the phone off its hook with one shaking hand. Lexaeus did the same, holding his own phone with those blue eyes of his trained on him, a strange sort of look in them as he just waited for the younger to say whatever he would.

And Zexion just stared at him, blue eyes slightly downcast and undeniably _sad_. Because this was what it had all become. The two of them— two people that used to walk through the park and just talk about all those stupid little things. Lexaeus being the only one that would listen to his little kid fears and his little kid dreams. This was what it had all amounted to. Death row.

"I…" He trailed off, shaking his head sharply, blinking back the tears that he wouldn't allow himself to cry. "I just wanted you to know that I'm— I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

The older just looked at him, reaching out to touch the glass, trailing his finger along it before shaking his own head. "There's nothing to be sorry about." He said, his voice simple and even, and Zexion just nodded, breaking, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"And I'm…I'm happy now." He clenched his fist in his lap, his knuckles white, crescent-shaped sores bleeding against his palm. "I'm really, really happy. And that's all I wanted to say."

"I'm glad." And Lexaeus just smiled at him, that strange look in his eyes.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Fastest ones on the mountain, yo? I don't think that's happenin'."

Axel shook his head, rolling his acid green eyes and smiling as they started into the little town covered in snow. So maybe they weren't the fastest ones like they said they'd be as children. But they were doing it. They were hiking all the way up to the top. They were fulfilling that stupid spur-of-the-moment promise, Axel's burns and Reno's job be damned. This was for them.

"Yeah, yeah. I'd like to see you try it with have your skin gnarled up." Reno stuck his tongue out, clapping him on the back— intentionally hitting one of his burns, the jerk— and running off, his hiking gear slapping against his sides. "Hey! That's not fair and you know it!"

"All's fair in love and war, yo!"

"Since when are we married?" His brother didn't reply, just kept running, that lanky frame so like his own disappearing around one of the log shops. Axel just shook his head, that smile still on his lips as he trailed along after him, slower but not really minding it. The town was just as his father had always described. Small and quaint, little log homes and little log shops all covered in snow year round. And it was funny but, as much as he hated the cold, he couldn't hate this place. It was just too beautiful, too tranquil. And that was something he really needed right now. No doctors telling him what to do, no parents doting on him.

That had been the worst part— telling his parents. He hadn't listed an emergency contact because he hadn't ever wanted them to worry about him, but telling them that he'd been attacked, burned, it was probably the worst few moments of his life. His dad had just looked at him, standing there on the doorstep to his childhood home, crutches holding him up, and then his mother had just cried and cried. It had taken a minor miracle for his mother to even let him come on this trip, and he was thankful that she had eventually agreed to it. He needed the trip and he needed his brother.

Reno was different than they were. He didn't dote on him or fret over the little things he did. He didn't worry about everything, and he didn't treat him like he was made of glass, even going so far as to tease him for being slow and purposefully hitting his burns. And as strange as it was, he was happy about that. Yeah, it hurt. Every bloody time it hurt, but…it would hurt so much more if Reno treated him like he was different.

He ran his hand through his hair at the thought, still smiling, settling his bag a little further on his shoulder and following along the same path his brother had taken. He turned the same corner and stopped, tilting his head to the side, red hair falling against his collarbone as he took in his brother's frame, his bag stuck in the snow as he just stared into one of the old shop windows.

And then Axel saw it. The little toy plane that was obviously done by hand, sitting so lovingly in the windowsill.

Sky blue eyes looked at him questioningly, pale lips tinged from the cold curving into a smile. "Look like a winner?"

He nodded, his smile widening as he took a step closer, dropping his own bag and pressing his face against the glass like a child. That one would do.

His dad would love it.

**K3YBLAD3**

"Hula dancer!"

"Cloud!"

"Bicycle messenger!"

Sora stopped, watching as one of his old friends hit the other brunette in the back of his head, brown eyes scrunched. "The hell, Pence?"

And they all just laughed, Pence and Hayner falling against the couch in a fit of alcohol induced giggles while he just plopped down on the floor, rolling his innocent blue eyes and flicking his little white sheet of paper back at them. Charades really wasn't their game.

He was supposed to be a butterfly.

But that was okay. They'd never been very good at games anyway. Back in high school, they'd tried entering a tournament of games, ping pong and basketball and all those other things, but it hadn't ended well. They'd ended up having to wash the boy's bathrooms for a month and a half. It was terrible. The place smelled all the time, and then Hayner had complained throughout the entire thing, Pence just following along with whatever he said. But…he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Every memory, every piece of his life— he loved them just the way they were. And looking at his friends all these years later, he wouldn't go back and change anything.

"Sora! There's someone for you at the door!"

"'Kay! Be there in a minute!" He called back, standing with a yawn, taking another sip of his drink and slipping into the hall. Hayner and Pence were currently fighting about whose alcohol was the most potent, so he figured that they wouldn't even notice that he was gone for a while.

It always seemed a little weird now, walking through his old house, living with his mother again after having been out on his own for as long as he was. It wasn't a bad kind of weird, but still strange. He hoped to be finding a job and getting out on his own again soon though. He'd taken enough time off and he kind of wanted to have his own home, somewhere to go back to that would be his own little sanctuary. Besides, leaving would mean that he wouldn't have to look at his baby pictures all the time. And that was something that he was definitely looking forward to.

"Hey."

Sora stopped, his bare feet locking in the carpet, his blue eyes wide. Riku. Riku was standing in the foyer of his house, dripping wet from the rain outside. He blinked, and then he did the only thing he could do.

"Riku!"

He tackled him to the floor, wet clothes and all.

**K3YBLAD3**

He shook, pale fingertips balancing across a tanned chest, keeping him upright, naked skin against naked skin. And he knew that he must look terrible, shaking and bare, chill bumps rising along his flesh for more reasons than one. Demyx didn't seem to mind, calloused fingertips rubbing circles against his hips.

It felt strange, just sitting there on top of him, obviously aroused, the blond's own arousal touching against his backside. And it was so awkward because Demyx could _see _him, _all _of him, and this was the farthest they had gone since that night well over a year ago. Back then, it had been spontaneous. He hadn't really known what was going on until it was too late and that was fine because this was just so— _awkward_.

They'd talked about it before, sitting in the bathtub together with the lights off because Zexion didn't like Demyx seeing him naked and blushing like an adolescent. And they had done little things before, touching each other through their clothes, teasing, going a little further than kissing.

But they hadn't done this.

They hadn't made it this far before. It was his fault. Zexion realized that. The blond was comfortable with whatever he wanted to do, but he…didn't give very often. Not with their relationship, not with affection. And he knew that that was bad. Demyx deserved everything he could give him because Demyx gave up so much. He gave up everything. And he'd never once pressured him into this kind of thing. Never.

He owed it to him. He owed him this one little piece of himself even if he wasn't sure that he was ready to give it, and…he _wanted _him to have it.

But he was scared...

Demyx shifted under him, blushing a bit at the friction against his groin, sitting up in just the slightest way and pressing their lips together, a sweet and innocent peck, those oceanic eyes filled with affection as they looked at him. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, okay? I'm not— just do what you want. Whatever you want to do." And his voice was reassuring and gentle in his ear, those fingers of his still rubbing those loving circles against his sides, sliding along his skin tenderly.

"I—" He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, pushing against the blond's chest and making him lie back down again. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and turning his head away. "Just let me— I want to— I'm not—" He stopped, huffing to himself and running his hands down to the other's stomach, the older's abs tensing beneath his fingertips.

He'd never felt so exposed in his life.

"Hey, look at me." One of those hands moved away from his hips, sliding along his jaw and tilting his head, making him look at him. Oceanic to deep sea blue. "It's okay. If you want to do this, then do it. If not, then that's fine too. Okay? You have total control."

And his voice was heavy with arousal, but still so gentle and sweet, talking to him and calming him down, that hand running along his arm and lacing together with one of his hands, a chaste little kiss placed at his wrist, another at his knuckle.

He smiled, his lips barely quirking at the sides, leaning in to kiss those chapped lips before bringing himself up and then back down. And it hurt, but he wanted this.

He wanted to give Demyx this.

**K3YBLAD3**

Green eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the colonial style brick house before them, a black steel fence surrounding it and only broken by the pathway that led to the front door. He checked the address again and scrunched up his nose, pocketing the thing and moving forward, a backpack slung across his back. It was worth a shot anyway.

Yawning from jetlag, he pulled himself toward the front door, knocking on it with a shrug and taking in the flowers that lined the porch. It seemed strange to be here, to be looking at them. It had been three years since he'd seen either of them. He knew that things had probably changed. They would be older certainly, and then…people change in that amount of time. Honestly, he didn't even know what had happened to them after the case had ended. Demyx had left the agency, saying something about a career in music, maybe opening up his own shop or something. Zexion had gone with him, but there was no telling whether or not the two of them were even still together. It was all up in the air.

But he had to try anyway. It had been so long and he'd changed a lot, done some things he needed to do, and now— now he just needed to see. He needed to see how everything had ended. He'd found Leon, still working on cases for the agency, but he'd switched over to missing persons instead of just straight out crimes. And then Larxene. She was still working too, still cutting people up for clues, still learning. But he'd already known that. She still visited his family on holidays, the only blonde amongst the redheads.

He'd found Sora and Riku too. Riku had started on with Destiny Islands Police Department and settled down, and then Sora had started working as a guidance counselor for the island's high school. They'd both moved on, and they were still friends after everything that had happened.

But that left Zexion and Demyx. They'd been the hardest to track down. They'd moved twice apparently, from Demyx's apartment in Atlantica to a little flat in the heart of Hollow Bastion, and now they were here in a nice house right outside Traverse Town, so close to where it had all started. He just hoped that he had the right house this time.

He knocked again, stepping back when it swung inward, acidic eyes narrowing at…nothing. Huh.

"Who're you?" He blinked at the pressure against his leg, looking down at the little black headed girl that was poking him in the knee. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong house after all.

"Hey there, I'm looking for—"

"Xion! Who's at the door?" He stopped, blinking again. He knew that voice.

"It's a big scary redheaded scarecrow man!" And then the little girl called Xion ran off back down the hall that he assumed she'd come from, her blue dress swinging against the back of her legs. Axel shook his head, taking a tentative step inside and closing the door behind him. A dirty blond head poked past a threshold, oceanic blue eyes widening with his smile as he stepped into the hall, that little girl clinging to his legs.

"Axel!" He hugged him around the middle, grabbing his bag and setting it down against the door. "I haven't seen you in— I don't know. Since the case was over."

The redhead smiled, shrugging as he followed Demyx into the living room that was crowded with instruments and wires that ate at the hardwood floor. "It's been a while. Whatcha been up to do these days?"

"Oh, this and that and— Xion, can you go get Zex for me?" The girl nodded, giving Axel a funny look before sticking her tongue out at him and running off. "He'll be so excited to see you! What are you here for? Just to visit? Do you have anywhere to stay yet? We have an extra room upstairs. It's Xion's play room, but I don't think she'd mind giving it up for a few days and— well, Zexion won't mind moving some of the toys out of the way." He laughed, letting out a sigh and falling back against a cream colored couch. "It's just…man, it's been a long time."

"Yeah. We're getting' kind of old." And Axel just watched as Demyx laughed again, and he could see the differences in him. The extra lines around his eyes— the laugh lines around their edges, the stress lines that touched at them in places— and the difference in the way he held himself. Not quite as easily, not quite as carefree. Not quite the same as he used to be. But that was okay.

He was sure they'd all be just fine anyway.

* * *

**A/N: And that's the end. It's been a long time (nearly two years in the making!) and I'm proud of this story. It was really a challenge for me to write, honestly, but I'm glad that I did break down and finish this. As much as I hated this in the beginning, it's really grown on me and I'm going to miss it. But you know, I'm happy with how it came out.**

**The epilogue didn't turn out nearly as fluffy or sweet as I had originally expected it to, but I think I like it better this way. After the case, things weren't perfect and I didn't want them to seem that way. It was surprisingly easy to write (since it literally only took me about five or six hours to type it up, and that includes breaks), and I think my favorite parts of it would have to be the second scene where Axel starts walking again and then the next to last scene with Zexion and Demyx. They were my favorite parts to write anyway. **

**I feel like I've grown a lot since the beginning in style and a lot of other things too. Especially in looking at the difference between the prologue and the epilogue. I still have some things to work on definitely, but...well, I'm getting there. And I really want to thank all of you for sticking with me until the end.**

**So, here's a thank you to all my reviewers! I love you all so much! You have no idea! I appreciate every single one of them you send me! And you know, without you guys, this story would have never made it off the ground. So thanks for that too. ^^**

**And thank you shadow readers! You're important too!**

**Production:This will probably be my last chapter story for a while. I'm going to take a little bit of time away from this site so I can work on an original story on DA and maybe catch up on some things I've been neglecting. I'll still be on every day to check messages and things, so feel free to PM me if you'd like. I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can.**

**Also! I am hoping to have something done for Zemyx Day, so if you'd like to make a request, feel free to _message me on my profile_. I make no guarantees as to whether or not I'll write it out or not, but I'm game for anything!**

**And thanks again! I love you! ^_^ **


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